THE LONGEST SHORT MONTH

THE LONGEST SHORT MONTH

Freezing fickle February, most uncouth and contrary,
How I hate thee let me count the ways,
You keep me cooped in like a hen in a pen,
Croaking and choking and moaning and groaning,
In boredom passing the dreary day.

Freezing fickle February, chilling with your stupid wind,
And your bitter icy arctic cold that blankets like a smothering friend.
Who leeches off the human spirit, you unappealing parasite.
Like some friggin’ Doublemint Twin whose teeth are far too white.
Your snow falls on the helpless fawn and endangers creatures on my lawn.
I say this not to spite you, it’s just that I don’t like you.
Your viciousness is so far flung I bet that you would eat your young.
And that is not the only thing, for other curses I shall sing.

I proclaim you now the victor, the unfiltered nasty king,
The longest short month on the calendar that I have ever seen.
Were it not for lovers frolicking you’d be no fun at all.
A greedy football player who will not pass the ball.
Though March is on the football field, going for an inside pass,
You refuse to hand it off to her, you’re such a pompous ass.

Your only saving grace henceforth
Is my boyfriend was born on your twenty-fourth,
But I will not let you use this excuse for your behavior most uncouth.
Foul, flamboyant February, I hate you, that’s the truth.

Freezing fickle February, we’d best just call a truce.
You are no match for the likes of me, for I am mighty Bruce.
And I shall smite you with my cane and shun you with my walking stick,
I have a date with April, we shall trip the light fantastic.
For you’re the longest short month ever, you suck just like a cheap mint,
And I long to wake up March the 1st and find you gone and went.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

LAY YOUR HEAD BESIDE ME

LAY YOUR HEAD BESIDE ME

Lay your head beside me on the pillow in the night
And stay here ‘til the hand of dawn unveils the morning light.

It is in these moments quiet and still that I feel your love take hold,
When the mystic sounds of the hoot owl echo through the cold.

I have loved you long and deep,
Through the centuries, lost in sleep,

As seconds drone and minutes creep,
Love’s the promise that we keep.

Lay your hands upon me, like the healer you’ve become,
And stay here ‘til the sunrise beats its solemn drum.

It is in these moments so serene when the moon in brilliance shines,
That I love to stroke your tender flesh and drink your love like wine.

For I have felt you drawing near, ever present, always here.
As sweet peace echoes through the years.
Love’s the prize we hold so dear.

Lay your head beside me on this pillow in the night
And stay here ‘til a new day finds us, burning ever bright.

It is in these moments precious that evaporate like sand,
You peer into the depths of me and show me who I am.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2011
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED