With Practice

 

Like murder, is penning a rhyme:

So easy after the first time.

 

 

THE WORLD MUST BE SAVED!

 

THE WORLD MUST BE SAVED!

(from those whose mission

is to save the world)

 

 

The March of Time

 

A boy mourns a pet with a life-span much less than his own;

The boy leaves his parents—heÕs grown and he cannot stay put;

His father is buried, his mother is left all alone;

Yes, time marches on...and tramples us all underfoot.

 

 

To a Victorious Opponent

 

It gave you boundless pleasure

To beat poor me

And other rivals bred to lose.

 

I have no doubt you treasure

That neat brass cup

And payment, spend it as you choose.

 

But IÕve contracted to measure

Your feet and pumps

For snug new gypsum overshoes.

 

 

 

© Robert Laughlin