05-16-2016, 07:40 AM
relative skill
Auntie Angst and Uncle Bunkum
tell me I'm no good.
I know that, I say,
twiddling my hair with a finger
while I choose which rock to throw
and at what next.
My aim is fine;
they're displeased with my targets.
But really, what they know
would fill a fish brain. Shame
on me though, I should be
kind. That's no target.
Still I keep missing it.
They mutter and canoodle,
these relatives of mine,
who taught me all that's right
in spite of themselves.
Auntie Angst and Uncle Bunkum
tell me I'm no good.
I know that, I say,
twiddling my hair with a finger
while I choose which rock to throw
and at what next.
My aim is fine;
they're displeased with my targets.
But really, what they know
would fill a fish brain. Shame
on me though, I should be
kind. That's no target.
Still I keep missing it.
They mutter and canoodle,
these relatives of mine,
who taught me all that's right
in spite of themselves.