Wrapping Paper In A Clumsy Husband’s Hands

The scissors snip cut make that paper sound

As clumsy hands figure the way of the present in the box

Bows of all colors strewn all over the floor

How does my wife do this?

Too much tape slapped on every box orifice

Wrapping paper rips and tears

More tape more tape

The bright green bow falls off

Christmas a favorite time of year

Is bedeviled by the need to make presents pretty

In a clumsy husband’s meaty hands.

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Novelist, screenwriter, poet. Fan of all things writing, film, music. Married forty-two years. Dog lover.

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Electric Indigo Waves

hey, are you there?

the bow out branching

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David Beaty

David Beaty

Novelist, screenwriter, poet. Fan of all things writing, film, music. Married forty-two years. Dog lover.

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