Hill Country Highway

Roses are red,
And violets don’t require bluing;
What in the hell
Do you think you are doing?
Running all around
With your hair on fire;
Doubting the concept
That you can ever retire.
Dibble dabbling on down the road
On hill country highway a la mode:
Thinking you can do just what you please
Til struck dumb by the wiles of a comely Lebanese:
Roses be roses
Ready red wear is hot.
Come over here, darlin’,
Wanna Cajun dance or what?


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 March 5, 2014, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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