Hey, Girl, Hey, It's the Month of May — Three Poems
Buying luck with soft licks of cash
Exhilaration alone empties your stash.
Planes cruise overhead, the planet turns
Palm tress sway, but no one learns
It’s all about love in these years.
So, how about love in these years?
How do you want to be defined? By one action? By some opinion that could evolve? By a mistake, regrettable only with hindsight? Or by the sum of your parts? Okay, do that for other people. Start the trend.