To do or to dew?
That is the questionable.
I’m not doing anyone at this moment in thyme.
There is thyme for oregano and time for love,
only heaven knows when
the day is like a cheery cherry, covered in
elegant chocolate that feeds
the taste buds of do’s and don’t’s
that toot a horn that calls out “do” for
fools and others who wait for
anything that is not done for.
Forlorn to do, forlorn to not, for
she is gone like a cherry pie
stolen in the night with
only the pie pan playing like a tambourine.