Poems and Poetry

Past Due | A Poem by Elaine Meredith

You’re the sunny to my skippy,
the yowee to my yippy,
the screams behind my dreams,
the voice that cries out loud;
you’re the darling of the crowd.
I could not live without
the memory of your shouts,
and even with a reason
it is nothing short of treason;
then simply to forget
would be laden with regret.
So, I’m sure you’ll relate
this is merely the matter
of a book beyond its date,
and if I might not pay the fine
I shall promise no next time.


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