January 24, 2011
As a noun
It’s a pesky irritation,
Sound violation,
Germ infestation.
But put the wind in its wings
And as a verb
These three letters glide
Through the mind
Repeating,
Whispering,
Infecting mankind with
An impossible dream.
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January 12, 2011
Like a little drop of blood,
You slide over bare arms,
Leaving the faintest tingly trace.
People let you crawl
All over their walls and skin,
Amused by your sassy polka-dot shell.
You pride yourself in popularity,
Finding amusement in breaking attachments
With the slightest flutter of your wings,
But would you still be so beloved
Without your pretty little name?
