specified such so as to issue a rhyme,
but proceeded as this scribe
didst git linkedin with the cutting crew,
mow or less feeling grassy us,
yet not the least whirlwind will offset
my b52 coiffed Hair style,
or hirsute shellacked beehive type do
the idler wheel is wiser than the driver
of the screw and whipping cords
will serve you more than ropes will ever do.

I’m stopping at the station, to hop a train departing,
Let it take me to the distance of my mind, far away.
I’ll stare and soak in scenery, the sounds of stop and starting,
To marvel at great cities and rare wildlife on display.

As I breathe in stealthy silence, we judder over tracks,
And every signal features a new place on the side.
I gape in humble gratitude, as I become relaxed,
As passengers' journeys are bound on this ride.

Out of the blaze, char, and smoke inferno
Heavy coated soot and big black boots
The last survivor over the threshold
Merely four years old and graciously carried
Into the frantic arms of her mother
From his crew, a bravo pat on the shoulder

Back at the firehouse, a hardy bowl
of chili and a big deep chuckle
Ears piqued for the bell, but momentarily
Sat back & enjoyed the stillness of the sun
Bliss interrupted by the high pitched siren
As the truck raced to extinguish
yet another five alarm fire

Sixteen years to my credit
when I first learned the story,
of Nita, Norma and their husband Bud
I remember the details so gory.

Right out of high school
were Norma and awkward Bud.
They married straight away
not a clever man, more of a dud.

Nita, a temptress, and good looker
caught Bud's eye, holding his gaze.
Nita was willowy, tall and sveldt
did she bewitch him making him crazed?