By Jennifer Brookins


doubters only believe what they see … you know the type dark sunglasses at night for a better view. Oh Weaver, guard my arrested heart from neighbors who wonder what type illness has come over me now that I wear mistletoe in my hair. They say I’m eccentric… well hardly…just bring on the hand cuffs; you’re welcome to everything in my old closet.

Early this morning before the sun had yet to rise I heard you say, “Daughter, have you seen my new act? We are the infamous bullfrog quartet free to all who would dare my kind of loving”

There is a lion in me so easily provoked; rears it’s head each time a stranger attempts to enter it’s cage without knocking when the sweet silence of heartache is disturbed

2020 Jennifer Brookins

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