Our grandchild awaits. We’re waiting too! Oh my. What are the chances that babies even happen??? HAHA.
My ears burn
as the world turns
to discern
a pattern
that music earns
when it learns
of font kerns
that overturn
Van Cliburn
a piano churn
that upturns
a smile downturned
when the butter churn
burns
to spurn
the early worm.
It’s their turn
to get the bird.