Stamp Out I Didn’t Know

What to do about the Sweet Invisibles
And their cousins the Silent Tormented
I think these aren’t original terms
Surely they’ve already been invented

First our Sweet Invisibles
You don’t really know them at all
They’re always there to be helpful
Then disappear to their cube or stall

They’d never bother you in the morning
Their discretion cannot ever be beat
Desperately needing some small thing
But would never bother you when you eat

Do you know their favorite color
Do you know their Halloween candy
Maybe you know their favorite author
To lend them your copy’d be dandy

Now our Silent Tormented
Do you even know who they are
Gone before they’re invited
Quiet as the farthest night star

But nurses never get angry
Impossible a chaplain with rage
Can you tell me their eye color
Or know sort of their actual age

How can people go postal
We’re so into everyone’s stuff
I hate to break it to all of you
But “friending” or “tweeting’s” not enough

Go, sit, and talk with them all
Ask them are they really ok
If they say dismissively “oh, nothing”
Maybe this is a time for a little longer stay

Blessings to our Sweet Invisibles
More to the Silent Tormented
Time to get up and get busy
Before any sadness gets overly cemented

Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking!!!
: )


About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on October 1, 2012, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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