She said, "Write a poem,
Not too short, not too long.
That dictates a theme to
A reader
Like: "how to get along"

Well, I said, "Should I
write about times,
of hardships,
and squish all of reality
into these lines?"

But no, she said,
"Melodious undertone
To pretend life's beautiful
Even when it's not
is the point of a poem."

Teacher, teacher

Wanted me to lift the reader
Out of the muck
To see the good
To see that they're in luck

They haven't died-
Yet

And they can bear it-
But,

No, she did not want me
To write the truth
She wanted me
To write
What she wanted to see

In a flowing, gentle as a river,
Soft as a floating feather,
Lovely as a blue-eyed baby-
Born in May-
Smooth as a pebble formed
From a rock in the bay

She wanted the cliches
love,

happiness,





joy,







and home

In a
Poem