Singing along, softly…

Reading softly in my office –
if too loud, my boss will interfere,
she is not a novice when
it comes to discipline –

I'm bound to sing too loud,
too long; hubby complains
about the song that stirs the air
when he tries in great despair

to study twelve cookbooks
which I refuse to read because
Edgar Cayce, America's Mighty
Sleeping Prophet

Is much better food for thought -
taking time off for delightful dishes
is just not right when there are
so many books around

But you slay me, the image of
a living breathing human being
reading my verse aloud is an idea
only found in El Dorado

Where Poetry.Com insists I buy
moneyed glory at a thousand rand
a pin - to impress friend and foe –

I'd be the laughing stock
of this my flock
for evermore!

I had better end my song and Spiel
turn my ship on an even keel
in traversing the choppy waters
of this office wondrous

Of mine - oh bureaucracy,
where is thy wings
to fly me to almighty wonders
in administrative eternity?

Singing along, softly…