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Richterís party crashed
Richter welcomed the bright morning,
looking around, the homestead needed an awning.
He heard a motor approaching.
Who could this be encroaching.
How had his corporate companion found him on her own!!
Richter truly cherished his time alone.
It had to be the location on his phone.
He was disappointed with himself, his mouth dry to the bone.
This device he would disown.
He would drive to the overpass and throw it on a passing semi.
Richter watched his companion eat his last bowl of cow heel and lamb soup.
This was no less than a food coup.
Richter said, Billie, Billie, I know you are sleepy but you have to sit up,
or that cow heel and lamb in your stomach are going to kick up and butt.
Better let your flora and fauna light your intestinal sauna,
so that digestion can power your prana.
We have a long fight ahead from here at the homestead.
Billie retorted, Richter my eyes are lead and I have to bed.
Richter hit the grounds starting his rounds,
his trigger finger balancing the pounds.
He had to check his traps, clear any crap,
and make sure everything was under wraps.
His nearest neighbor was some miles away.
Out here you could not play.
Afterwards he would check on Billie. She was always so wily.
He would have to endure some silly from Billie,
but it sure was fun spanking the cheeks of that filly.
Nothing about her was willy nilly. She was his Billie.
When she felt like she could really rock the boat.
The veteran in Richter knew when to stay behind his moat
and usually he stayed afloat. No one was getting his goat.
Richter knew the game play by rote.
CI-495506408 Knight Truelove Poems