Poetry

How’s the weather up there?

On 2022 February 14th by monty

Ask me for the weather

And you’ll sometimes think me funny

For even when it pours with rain

I’ll tell you that it’s sunny

Though times are hard

The day is tough

I haven’t any money

You’ll think it queer to hear

– in cheer – me tell you

I feel sunny

The crumbs are stale

The fruit has rot

There’s not a drop of honey

You’ll ask me how the hunger hits

I’ll tell you

It feels sunny

No foxes stalk

No songbirds talk

There’s not a single bunny

Yet on this lonely

silent walk

It’s truly very sunny

And when I ail

My systems fail

My nose is raw and runny

Weak at the knees

by some disease

I’m feeling strong and sunny

My clothes are torn

and thin and worn

All threadbare cloth and gunny

But I feel decked

in satins, silks, and cottons

bright and sunny

Yes, even when my words fall short

My phrasing’s fraught

Notation’s naught

My meter’s shot

My rhyme scheme’s (at best) crummy

Because you love me like you do

It ever shall be sunny