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About This Author
 Writing poetry allows me to exercise my imagination and share it with others. I strive to write for the benefit of the reader using carnival fun mirror images of my life's experiences.
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| This past summer I felt free enough to leave my world behind, I waxed and buffed my '03 'Stang until the red paint shined, The next day I beheld the sight of a bright and hazy morn, While leaving town I squealed the wheels and laid upon the horn. Would my goals be hindered by the fear I most abhor? To ponder the uncertainty of the path that stretched before, Inside of a worn-out travel guide, the options fate may take, From home I traveled north toward Michigan's greatest lake. At dusk, I stopped at an inn, old-fashioned and delightful, The artifacts scattered inside proved to be insightful, My philosophy, so clear to me, the yearning for a taste, Of the burden my forefathers bore, I've not one hour to waste. Everything seemed polished clean, soon I found the kitchen, Something scented delicately come wafting from the oven, Shouts went lame for no one came to provide me needed aid, Unfortunately, I wasn't wise enough to know to be afraid. Then I recalled reading about cults of Amish witches, They'd become invisible to steal away one's riches, What's so bizarre I went to my car, I couldn't believe my eyes, My Ford had been replaced by a horse and buggy surprise! It took a month to return to the streets of my hometown, Shopping for grain along the way, feeling like a clown, People would stare, but I declare I've learned a thing or two, It's no fun when on the run and old Bessie throws a shoe!
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