- Books, Literature, and Writing
Cry Over Spilled Milk
It was a cold shoulder night
and I had a bone to pick;
But, of course,
I boringly cooled my heels.
What the heck!
What does that mean?
To wait for a long time
Is that it?
We are all waiting then,
cooling our heels.
I know something
that does not cool the heels.
Ace in the hole
Yes, a hidden adventure
kept in reserve to use when it matters,
like stud poker as bets are placed across
the table while you wait on pins and needles.
Beat around the bush,
butter someone up.
In my mind, I am more sinned against the sinning.
Put your foot in your mouth
and forget the pie in the sky.
Because we’re not the real McCoy,
we are all skeletons in the closet.
We’re ships that passed in the night.
Intense moment but I’ll never see you again.
It’s time for a siesta.
Yes, I feel like being a wet blanket.
Don’t be a Young Turk
You know we are just two star-crossed lovers,
doomed by the stars and the constellations.
We are just an albatross around each other’s neck.
Bite the bullet,
and draw the line.
No more hammer time, just go by the book.
Yeah, just under the wire.
No more vicious circles for you sweet.
And be careful of the wolves in sheep’s clothing, or else take a powder.
Swoosh, like flash.
Time is of the essence
and you, me, and all of us have to stop crying over the spilt milk.
Just be three sheets to the wind my friend and always take the bull by the horns.