Day 27 of Poetry Month...

      LIST POEM, AFTER BILLY COLLINS

You’re my Winter, Summer, Spring,

But  not my Fall, and one more thing…

You’re twinkling lights across the bay

And all the things that poets say,

Probably also you’re the last rose of summer

And for sure, you are the empty barrels at the end of the driveway.

However you are not the winning Lotto ticket,

Or the good looking guy on the five o’clock news,

Or the horse of a different color.

I’ve noticed you are exactly the same color as the last horse. 

It’s possible that you might be the owl I hear in the Eucalyptus tree,

And for sure you are the protective plastic wrap that comes on the N.Y. Sunday Times,

But – and you must not take this personally-

You are not the silver ankle strap heels from Barney’s.

And surely you are aware of this: 

You are not the sound of freedom ringing out.

You’re just not anything to shout about.

And speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,

You may have overlooked the fact that I am sugar and spice, and everything nice,

And you are snakes and snails and left over dog parts.

I am a sky rocket on the fourth of July, I am the North Star in the sky         

I am the song that April sings, I am the sneeze that pepper brings.

So never fear my love, you will always, always be my Winter, and my Summer, 

And surely without a doubt, my Spring…

But never…you will never if you live to be a hundred…

You will never be my Fall.

© Sally Stevens 2010