I am sorry that yesterday's poem was a repost. I was so out of it from my headache on Friday, that I was lucky to even remember my name. I forgot to mark the pad that I had used that poem.
I am looking forward to taking a few days of vacation. I am thinking about the Lancaster area. It's not too far, but it is away from home. I am not sure when , but I need to get away for several days.
I answered a Crag's List ad from a woman in Texas who said she was fifty-four, looking for someone with "old fashioned" values. I thought I would write, thinking we would have time to develop common ground before we met or find that we weren't compatible and save the time and expense of dating. (I know I am cheap. My kids tell me that.) About the second reply, she tells me she is actually fifty-seven. (It's a woman's usual prerogative to not be true about her age.) I gave her the benefit of the doubt and continued to write.
A few posts later, she says, "I must tell you that I am married." Wow, that kind of knocked my socks off. The ad read, "old fashioned". I wrote back saying, if you wanted old fashioned person, why are you looking for someone else without your husband knowing?
My response must have upset her, because she wrote back saying, "I sorry you read my ad and wrote back to me. Goodbye." She wasn't sorry that she placed the ad, only that I had read it and answered. Strange.
I love to play with words. I think it's fun.
Rhyming, chiming, timing, working them through..
Caring, sharing, making their place to rest.
Shaping, forming, placing them in a pun,
a play of words giving a hint and clue,
sorting, selecting, settling on the one.
Picking the right word and setting it in place,
double entendre, Often I will use.
In my writing of jokes, poems, or rhyme,
I try the meaning of words to embrace
while my odd sense of humor and love of words fuse.
Writers are poor men. I haven't seen a dime.