About Faces

It’s not that I abhor a frown,
yet I confess it gets me down.
But every smile is a gift
because of how it gives a lift.

A sad Facade can chill the air;
(the glad is gone, I know not where.)
Advancing, though, to give delight
are grins like moonbeams in the night.

I feel a cold, uncommon mist
from pusses rigid as a fist.
I’d rather see a look of joy
instead of what sad sacks employ.

I wonder where the smile goes
when spring erupts with fern and rose.
Behind each smile, seems to me,
are frowns that wait with urgency.


16 Lines
Rhythm: 8
Daily Poem Contest
10-18-17

Words to use : Facade, abhor, wonder, mist
Words not to use: Mask, face, emotion, fake, black, and