I like my coffee sweet,
my tea the same, and neighbors nice,
and so I keep borrowing sugar—
sometimes a pinch is all I need,
sometimes a cups does not suffice.
The problem arises,
when seeking neighbors,
that one really doesn’t decide.
I mean you might get lucky
and find yourself
a neighbor that’s needing a pinch
or a dash of sweetness,
and just have to borrow that.
Then, again, you could find a lemon
and have to get a cup.
Thing is, about lemons,
there’s so many on my street
that I’ve borrowed bushels
while sitting at my desk—
some from the Roger’s two houses down,
a pound or two from the McHue’s—
I really wish the Johnson’s
would plant a rhododendron,
because I’ve borrowed all the sugar
from the azalea’s behind the picket fence.
© J.P.V.
The Poetry Of J.P. 