I’m sorry for not getting back to you till now.
If it weren’t for your picture in the newspaper
I would have missed you.
I must admit you look a bit stiff.
Out of the frame so to speak.
I suppose they had to hype your accomplishments.
Killing the ball with nobody on
makes no sense at all.
You could have hired a ghost writer to do that!
Now I ask you who is the capitol of Memphis?
Rabes or Brawn?
Will a spell-check catch that one?
All I know is you ask that.
and yesterday was tomorrow.
Everybody’s gone.
And the odds are heather to return.
Nothing is impossible
All is Chances or Who is Heather?
Published in Poetry