Poems written for me. Thank you, dear Richard. |
He is a good friend, as kooky as can be Sometimes he makes me want to throttle him And yet I giggle helplessly instead He's got a talent with words, effortless poetry pours forth from him So to get little sweet pieces dedicated to me, Gets this female thrilled, happy and downright lucky to have met a guy like him. Thank you for being a friend, someone who cried when I almost died. Waiting to make a turn, watching another approach he swerved at the last instant, missing the backside. I’m a better person because of you who are. Open and understanding, I am more caring, appreciating your goodness, even though we are afar. We are different however our friendship isn’t bizarre. My email was thoughtless, over the top. A stupid fool writing those words, hurting the one who showed her emotions accepting my apologies, we go onwards. Thank you for being a friend, to me you are a Godsend Through good and bad times our emails should never end. Your insight, visions, rants and raves on them, I depend. Thank you for being a friend, to me you are a Godsend. Off I go to O Canada! Banff and Lake Louise I’ll see Four days and nights I’ll stay, camping isn’t free, pay the fee. From around the World they come, taking in the sights and sounds. Brown, black and yellow, all colors enjoy God’s playground. Crystal clear rivers and lakes fed by mountain glaciers and streams Bear, moose, wolves graze on nature surprising them, one might scream. Bring me a gift, she did say. What do I bring back? Might she like a hat or perhaps a cat I hope not a yak. How funny would I look, a yak in the back of my car? Head and hoofs sticking out, tail flapping, I’d not get far. Mr. Ranger would not be happy, with me and your yak in the back. In jail I’d be, a situation calling for tact Face to face with your yak. Come get me, me and your yak. I don’t want no stinkin’ yak Silly boy, I want a Kit-Kat Yak? You keep him, Mac. Honest to God it’s true driving under a sky so blue crossing the border, heading north coming upon a town called Yahk. Stopping at the shop, The Smoke Shack inquiring of the owner, Mac. Do you have the bovine, Yak cause my girl, she wants me to bring back There is no Yak in Yahk, Mac said, upon a stool he sat. They perished long ago in the mountain cracks I heard some may be in Hackinsack. Hackinsack? I’m in Canada mate. Traveling there, no doubt I’d be late or my date, sadness would I create. No Yak for my girl, I stopped and ate. Caps, hats, cats a plenty Mugs enough for a coffee klatch. Neither did she want them A gift for her, there wasn’t a match. Hockey sticks nor team sweaters A puck or a pair of skates. Her name is Kiya not Kate Soccer is her game, I’m outta luck. No Yak to be brought back instead I offer moose and ducks. They’re common in Canada, do not pluck, I rescued them from the muddy muck. Hurry, please pick up the ducks and moose Do it soon cause they’re on the loose, eating me out of house and home, I’m low on money, I need a loan! - richardd |