New bride

Tortoise and the hare
Thought I was safe from
the sun’s cancerous glare
dared to shade my eyes
blot out rose tinted rays
So the sun deserted
leaving warmth
to a shiny new heir.

Peer Pressure

Fallen behind
the crowd
Mid-age slump
crawl and groan
off miniature throne
Not that much
Any more

Face in the Mirror

Graceful evolution
from butterfly to slug
Joplin hair, wild abush
eyes dragooned red,
puffy and dead

Will survive yet again,
another heightened day
Even the dread days
are better than dead days
of which there are plenty