Six-Word Memoir Poem

Woke up, fell down, exited sideways.

A new memoir every five years.

My second grade teacher was right.

 

Rather sing than stay to chat.

Someone had to pay the bills.

Didn’t fit in then, still don’t.

 

I love my lady…and bacon.

Buried gold long ago, can’t find.

Later-life serendity led to Authorland.

 

A man, a plan, hot damn.

* Found poem. Randomly grabbed a book from my shelf, opened it, and found a jewel. 🙂

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