A Title at the Table of Contents

She drew a chair for me to sit and said
We do not stand upon our feet to eat
But I unsure of her design spoke up:
The chair you drew won't do, it's on paper
My legs need space to hang below and my
Elbows must lean on arms that won't let go.

She asked me then, well what do you expect?
A chair of wood with arms and legs for who?
You share ideals of limbs with furniture
Digest your thoughts before you start to speak
Page 10 refers to your body of text
Titles at my table behave as guests.

You Never Keep Your Word

What is my word, the word I never keep
Is it a word that causes me restless sleep?

Did I lose my word between another's sheets
Or was it not actions but the word I repeat?

And is it really your word, meaning mine
Or is it our word I somehow malign?

Never? But did I ever have forever?
I see to many times means never.

Unreliable, is this my name
Should I not speak but walk in shame?

And this excuse it falters inside
Will this make your anger subside?

No, I know it is my word I should keep
But I gave it to you and now you weep.

What can I do as it no longer belongs to me?
Now I see, it is not my word but what I did agree.

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