She told me I was childish,
Young and immature
With some form of exuberance
For which there is no cure.
I took a breath and looked at her
And offered my retort:
“Let’s have this conversation
“Somewhere other than my fort.”
She told me I was childish,
Young and immature
With some form of exuberance
For which there is no cure.
I took a breath and looked at her
And offered my retort:
“Let’s have this conversation
“Somewhere other than my fort.”
Filed under Poems