Caught between

A rock and a hard place

One side potential ecstasy

the other consummate dread

There is not much joy in whoville

Where the desirous grinch sows his seeds

Not much more lies in whatifville

If the fields tended cannot be mended

And must be abandoned.

There is not much hope

When pulling the plant

Leaves the root behind



Seeking comfort

Sitting at my desk on this chilly winters day

I reach for my woolen sweater

To keep the cold at bay

This drafty old house keeps the rain off of my head

And the heating stove helps warm the air

But does little for the heart

The sweater seems to serve the need

to keep warm my hearts hearth.