No more poems
The children sleep quietly in their beds,
mother sits quietly in the kitchen.
The door creeks and a panther enters.
The mother looks at it, not suprised.
"I will run no more, cat" She says to it.
"Then I shall chase you no longer, poet." Says the cat.
The strong smell of gas fills the room.
The mother sleeps, perchance she dreams?
But there will be no more poems.
Eric A. Taylor
Rio Vista, Ca, USA
Saturday, November 4, 2000
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