Sunday, July 15, 2012



gave us the first line


A fellow was starting to rue
The fact that his nose was askew.
Others fell about laughing
And teasing and chaffing
Till he sneezed and they all got the flu.

(A Sonnet)

Would that I had a golden clock embued with magic powers,
A clock that sang its counting-song with clear-as-crystal chimes.
Would that my clock marked only my many carefree hours
And stood quite mute when there were sad or disappointing times.
My clock would then remind me of the hours when I was glad,
I'd stand, stock-still, and drink them in, so happily aware.
Whereas those other hours I lived, the dreary and the sad,
Would pass, unnoticed, and, indeed, would really not be there.
With sorry hours extinguished, all my days would be prolonged,
And, looking back, I'd smile to think my life had been a gem.
The sad times would be banished to the place where they belonged;
Grim pockets of forgetfulness would be the place for them.
Would that I had a golden clock embued with magic powers;
A clock that took happy minutes and remembered them as hours.

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