Love the Morons!

I think everyone lives & works with them. I can just see their chubby little faces, so eager, so helpful. Nice, Jenny.

Last night's prompt made a poem. Look!

August 15--Aftershocks of the full moon--

The moon trails her fingers
over the midnight blue
of the bay
lighting a path

for lovers' dreams
of eternal bliss
are washed in
the light

of the cold moon
hanging from the
frayed string of hope
braided by generations

of Romeos and Juliets
gliding down
moonlit paths.


Well, hell. I had it all nicely formatted just like I wanted it and Blogger left-justified it. Drat. Oh well, enjoy your weekend!
--Barbara