Sometimes the daily/
labors’ fruits reveal feelings/
deeper than first thought.

Funny how something/
so simple could be such fun./
I’d do that often.

She had fuzzy socks,/
and cats curled on her lap. I/
wanted to rub them.

“Where are you?” she’d ask./
“Whatcha doin’?” she’d wonder./
I miss her caring.

Queen’s Bohemian/
Rhapsody in the rain means/
I’m driving top down!

Hard rain forces me/
to close the top and rock out/
with windshield wipers.

No resistance to/
humor, she claimed. She turned me/
down; proved otherwise.