Tags
cold weather, commuting, December, Edgar Allen Poe, February, January, midwest, Poe, poetry, potholes, The Raven, winter, winter months
(A well-meaning tongue-in-cheek twist on an old Raven classic.)
Once upon a February dreary
While I trudged on, weak and weary
With many a quaint and curious curse on volumes of potholes
While I nodded, nearly napping
On I-480 in stop and go traffic’ing
Suddenly, there came a #$%^!!’ing
as of something loudly #%#!!!’ing
!@#$#@!!’ing under my Buick door
‘Tis some concrete, I muttered
trapped under my Buick door
Only this and nothing more.
Ah, distinctly I remember! It was a very sharp December
Leaving hunks of metal ghosts strewn around the highway floor
With January cold and bitter
My creas’d brow and heart a-flitter
Wondering if my tires would weather
Through this season and perhaps one more
Praying, pleading, cursing that my Buick lasts through just one more…
Hoping still – forever more.
Sincerely, Lori 