Disaster
I went for my early morning run,
just me and my young son.
It was to be a lot of fun,
then home for a hot cross bun.
We waved to Mary's grandson,
then it had all begun.
My shoe came untied.
I almost died.
Come on one spiritual guide,
I cried.
One must hold on to their pride,
disaster is about to show real wide.
Down I went,
did the concrete now have a dent?
It all peeked off to the bright morning sun.
Copyright © Paula Goldsmith | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment