Ain’t It Just

Ain’t it just that way? We do a thing – over and over – then wonder why nothing changes.

 

 

Lady Sings the Blues

 

It’s the same thing
every time and she still
don’t understand  
why she can’t see that
Baby, what you doing
sitting round here all pretty?
molasses-deep voice
will always begin with
panties on the floor, feet
somewhere near heaven
and finish with a door open
another’s legs wrapped
round that broad back
she thought of as hers.

Curious to see more of my writing?  Visit me – Brenda Joyce Patterson – on Facebook, Twitter, and my website.

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