Posted by: Ron DuBour | May 31, 2019

“Worries”~by Rhoda Tripp Writes



Her wisdom in wares,
that she cared to share,
it resided, presided,
above the mundane and inane,
inside her hip-hop shop of laughter,
and her wholesome happily ever after.
Now a wicked wish,
from dead center,
where no one is allowed to enter,
drifts the dark and naked abyss,
a cursed and hurried kiss,
from a forsaken friend or foe.
Within her hollow haven of blank stares,
worries have worked their way to the forefront,
like an empty storefront,
that sells unwanted and useless wares.
No one is tending the till,
all is still,
including the keeper of tendencies.
She stands there, bare,
having shed today’s responsibilities,
into a pile of tomorrow’s dirty work clothes.
And so it goes…
She’s peddling the ponderance,
of what she does not yet know.

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