block

there was a time

when I was mired

not

with false starts

hopes burned hot and fast

to ash

but

with

a carpal cramp

born of an overflowing pen

not today

©2021 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

fib

 small

lie

with no

clear malice

at least by intent

that's how my mom would describe it

she was always right

and pretty

like

you

© 2021 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved