Tactility of Being a Word Tramp


Ah, Poetry!
Fickled little itch

Fighting clicks and ticks
of binary stitch

Not fit for the quick
Of high speed spit

Though easily faked
(That good little trick)

With groans and moans
And treading hips

And clucks and crackles
From chicken’s lips

She’s better (I think)
When paced over time

Not allowing you yours
‘til she’s satisfied


© KMcGee 2015