A Helping Hand, A Good Friend
What's as precious as a friend,
Who will critique your work
When you have labored hours on end,
Searching for a quirk?
Perhaps it's a figure of speech
You've seldom heard before?
Or could it be just to beseech,
Let's not go to war?
This is too silly, just too late,
To even quite be sane,
So I'll not try to concentrate
'Til morning comes again.
©03/31/2011 Carol Morfitt