In The Looking Glass

I would look through the window at feeble old men

and secretly smirk

and secretly pity

Now the window looks back and its message is clear

 that old man is you

and the picture’s not pretty

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2020)

The Stolen Horse

Why try to write like somebody else,

by others passion driven

A watered down copy, trespassing free,

to alien words you’re smitten

A copycat artist who mimics the sounds,

your voice a toast unbidden

While somebody’s pain and somebody’s joy

—the stolen horse you’ve ridden

(Rosemont Pennsylvania: April, 2020)