Stashing the Joy

In 1951, love dreams of having this year,

Entertaining witness protection,

Drinking with a friend.

But does anybody really have a good night?

Where does Rosemary stash the joy?

We aren't even going to be happy with Christmas.

If this “snow” keeps up, those who pray

Will make us pull over and cry.

The suffering is over.

This half-naked lady, a really cute montage,

Walked right into the lamp post.

Her ripped dress, silenced until tomorrow,

Looks like the Brothers Grimm.

Outside the house, she sleeps well,

Touched up by a snowy afternoon.

Top-Secret Christmas Mission

My day is off feeling morning,

Straightening weather data,

And warming a woman dismantled.

My stories about first-stop pre-ordered January

Tempt her excitement.

I might not be forgotten.

Today, the world fought bravely,

Epic time flossed conversations,

The theatre creased my thoughts.

The intensity of family feuds flashed

During the first week

Of me and my sisters going to Gurnee,

Missing mom riding along.

The top-secret Christmas mission,

An event bravely bitten,

Quit within twenty minutes.

Equal poems compare global fiction,

Short, planned nights.

Anybody stabbed with scissors

Knows this season.

Three Horrible Letters

Her Fearless Heart

When did you have black photos?

Before the wedding?

Terminal cancer has one week to propose.

Love happens now, in an attempt to be polite.

Several prints are sexy, the love of his life,

A sweet fiancée.

People stop, love this, vow to marry,

Comment on this image.

She isn’t done yet.

Important artwork

Before three horrible letters,

A future quest finally complete.