by Glen Martin Fitch
Not just a game
(a test of patience,
skill,
a chance for us
to scratch our heads
and rap our fingers)
It was fun.
Oh what a thrill,
surprised and satisfied,
to hear that snap.
No competition here and
nothing scored
I offered you an edge
to fill a gap.
I didn't want to think
I'd been ignored.
A few I tried to force in
with a tap.
The picture's incomplete.
Did you get bored?
Lose interest in the helpful clues
I tossed?
At first I didn't want to think
you'd hoard the ones I sought.
I know they're hidden, lost.
Yup, you're not here for me
and I concede I'll never have
the pieces that you need.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011