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Created on: April 22, 2008
Impatience waits
drumming fingers
on glass-covered table
with smudged prints
of forever.
Reason searches
prudent rags,
salvaged strips soaked
in window
cleaner.
Annoyance stomps
shattering glass
with pointed heel marks
in sanded pine tabletop
of enough.
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Poetry: Don't ask
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I won't ask why God gave us life
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One day God will call us home
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Don't
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I can see it in their eyes,
as they approach me in that way.
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for a comforting thing to say.
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by HL Moran
Don't ask why things bother me
that I never noticed much before
Too loud music, too short skirts
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