20,000 More

Twelve years gone, but I’m still here.
The sun came up again.
Where’s is my Amanda this long day?
Who ever hears of my pain?

Grabbed off the street, slammed in a room:
No one hears me cry.
I’m not pretty, nor in the news
No matter how hard my parents try.

If you think you see me, make the call—
1-800-THE-LOST
Don’t be afraid or turn away:
It’ll be me that bears the cost.

So, hooray for Cleveland and Mr. Charles:
We all smile until it burns.
I hope my day comes, not if, but when,
But now, that man returns…

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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 May 8, 2013, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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