Norm

O.J. couldn't fit the glove
cowgirls get the blues
even if you turn your back
the hand of time will find you

Stuck inside a painting
is it anger
or intent
pondering
with covered hands
you lean on memories spent

tacking them upon the wall
wondering if they'll fall
down the stairs
of anxious haste
into the hands of waste

gray fingers
laying alone
tabled from the rest
can you rally
up the courage
recover from the test

Norm

Your thoughtful ways
define you
remind you
of the coming storm

kindness
never blindness
is you ever present
norm