Who are the lucky ones?
Are there any?
Peach-ripe and full every day
on their tree.
Saying no, I'm not the man in black,
who's he?
They gotta rope so big it lassos
the moon
with time and twine to spare.
No despair.
They've maintained their head of hair.
And nary a one is silver.
Author Meloo/Melissa A. Howells Copyright January 2010
Copyrighted Site: Meloo/ Tilt-a-World
All ideas/poems/stories are legal property of this Author