(a postcard poem)
Faxes sent and received…
paid by PayPal…
Retirement card brought,
all it needs is a note…
Lost a reading contest to take a pretty girl,
who always pays for our outings,
to a fancy restaurant, but don’t mind so
much because the guy who won
wanted to take his wife out for their 27th anniversary,
but couldn’t afford it because the live on a fixed income.
I’m a bit of a romantic, you see.
writing group assignment’s all read,
comments aligned in mind to spout
when time comes.
Even poetry postcard is ready early.
I give myself a moment to breathe.