She’s hot,
packing heat
in summertime.
Girlfriend’s a pistol,
way too hot to handle.
A pistol-packing mama —
charming, alarming, disarming.
Always fighting fire with firepower,
illuminating life with her fireworks.

This poem is an etheree, written in response to Margo Roby’s 8/4/15 prompt asking us to write a poem about packing or unpacking. It probably goes without saying, but I had fun with this one.



3 thoughts on “Firecracker

  1. A form worth a second looksee. 😉
    Yep fireworks get packed very carefully and then ‘BOOM’ they are unpacked. 🙂

    Thanks for stopping by my ‘fool’ acrosTic.
    It is amazing all the different directions we can go.

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