Bed of Roses

Leftovers are a let-down.

Picking up the pieces

Of my broken heart.

Left not right,

Caught in the middle.

Ideologies and rumors,

Hearsay and politics.

Wondering what to do,

After it’s all been said and done.

Get out the bread and butter.

Stir up the soup of the day.

Mow the lawn and be happy.

Such an excuse to be gay.

Do you know the secret

To making peace in this time?

Mine is slowly seeping

Into a bed of roses.