A Tiny Bit of Honey

A day is never wasted
If one thing has made you smile
Though that joy that you have tasted
Might just last a little while.

Still, a tiny bit of honey
Is enough to make life sweet
And there’s no amount of money
That can honestly compete.

So be grateful for those sightings
That have caused your face to grin
For the tiniest delightings
Keep the embers stoked within.

Staying the Same

It’s easy to do nothing
Though there's lots I’d like to change.
The old stuff is familiar,
With no need to rearrange.

So I find if I procrastinate
The hours melt away
And before I know what hit me –
Poof! There goes another day.

I admire those who sally forth
And tackle things they should.
It would be so great to join them
And I’d do it if I could.

Stopping by the Q on a Weekday Evening (with apologies to Robert Frost)

Which train will come, I’ll try to guess
But that won’t really help my stress.
It’s building up as crowds surround
Creating quite the urban mess.

The tourists all must think we’re nuts
To cram on platforms where such gluts
Of humans stream without an end
To pack so tight we’re touching butts.

Announcements say the train is near.
We crane our necks; no lights appear.
Then suddenly the rumble sounds
Of braking by the engineer.

The subway’s stuffy, cramped and late.
It does its best to aggravate
But all that we can do is wait
And that is what we do; we wait.

Clacking Away

When home computers made their way
Into our homes, things changed
And desks in dens or bedrooms
Were cleared off and rearranged.

The typewriter was certainly
The first thing taken out,
Tossed or shelved inside a closet
By all those but the devout.

Yet those true aficionados
Through these years have clacked away,
Knowing all those Smith-Coronas
Would be cool again some day.

A resurgence is occurring
With a slowly building hype
That it’s awesome, boss and groovy
On a typewriter to type.

There’s a reason we should cherish
Retro items from the past
For their coolness factor often has
Most modern things outclassed.

The Tappan Zee Bridge

We drove the brand-new Tappan Zee;
It’s modern and it’s sleek.
Only one direction’s finished;
It’s been open for a week.

The other side will join the club
Real soon and when it does,
The river will look very different
From the way it was.

The older bridge looked much as
An erector set appears,
Like the one my brothers played with
In their early childhood years.

It will slowly be dismantled
When the new one is complete,
As the past fades to oblivion,
A sorrowful retreat.

For the future’s out there waiting
And most things won’t be the same,
Like the bridge once called the Tappan Zee,
Which boasts a brand-new name.

But to tried and true New Yorkers,
Any name they tried to pick
(Former Governor M. Cuomo)
Simply put, will just not stick.

So let’s celebrate the opening
Of a bridge I guarantee
That, no matter what the signage,
Will remain the Tappan Zee.

My Pencil Point

My pencil point was out of joint
And didn’t feel like writing
Although the page was clean and fresh
With lines that looked inviting.

Its sullen mood had me imbued
With thoughts I tried to deaden,
For many wouldn’t place their trust
In one so plainly leaden.

Yet oftentimes we conjure rhymes
Quite quickly and with pleasure.
Perhaps the credit should be shared
By us in equal measure.

Princess Diana

I remember when I heard -
The awful total shock.
It's those iconic moments
That your mind can never block.

The news clips of the wedding
And her royal obligations;
The flowers at the palace
And the grievers of all nations.

The funeral, reminding me
Of that of JFK,
Both with children, young and fragile,
Crushed beneath the public sway.

Now it's 20 years behind us
But the story will not fade,
For the life of any princess
Doesn't match how it's portrayed.