It must be her breeding.
My baby girl was made for reading.
Put a book in her hands
and she’ll have a grand time.
She loves to imagine places,
personalities and faces,
and loves filling the spaces
on her overflowing shelves.
She herself has me figured,
a hard cover gift to bring home
to her poet dad. Not too bad
for one so enamored of books
she found a job in her new Canadian home,
hawking tomes for folks of her mind,
she specializes in hard to find editions,
her position is if she can hold it
in her hand, a book surely can
entertain her. A quick learner,
a page turner. She likes reading.
It must be her breeding.

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2019

Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Prompt #474: Gift


Imbibed a wee much Christmas cheer,
someone spiked the punch,
the mix within doth stink of gin,
that’s just my hunch.
I truly am inebriated,
I’ve climbed into a tree,
singing bawdy Christmas songs,
Ding-dong merrily, I’m high!
I’ve been bested,
gonna get arrested!”