All of my flaws are on display,
exhumed and arranged on display--
fighting the urge to fly away.
Failing flight, I can fake a smile
beyond the blue cloisonne smile
that's challenging to reconcile.
Would that we were only talking--
fervent wish for no more talking,
my calloused feet should start walking.
Kerry's weekend challenge to the Real Toads is to write the blues--the blues stanza.
