Three Piffles

Published February 19, 2018 by Nan Mykel

IN MEMORIUM

Alas, poor car, you did me no wrong.

If we forged a spiritual bond,

I broke it that February day.

Was I wool gathering or were his lights

out? No mind. Spilt milk. Misdeed done.

I never knew the freedom you brought

me until the day we parted on

Route 7.  Oh my Toyota Matrix

2003, how I miss you!  I’m sorry.

 

SILENCE

Out of juice, I have to say

this thirsty page before me lay.

The manhole cover is doing its job;

life underground remains in a fog.

 

SCRIBBLINGS

I’ve got an itty bitty

Witty ditty

Just under my arm—

No harm,

but it’s pritty gritty!

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