I think people like to ramble
We just do, usually an amble
Among the memories
Through the trees
Of long ago events
Some even present.
We think and it comes out long
Too long for the average throng
We try to make our words succinct
Possibly wanting to tinct
Coloring the mundane
Leaving out the profane
Stumbling with the truth
Hoping you won’t sleuth
Each meaning or nuance
Not revealing, taking a chance
But ambling along in the dance.
The Bag Lady 