Poetry Wisdom

The dame I let die

I’m out, walking, giving thanks, praying for the day ahead.

She catches my eye! There she is, on the curb! Fair and blond.

What a beauty. I can’t believe it. I draw closer.

She is what she appears to be. Unblemished!

Solid, functional, like my boyhood bed frame.


I’ll rescue her, take her home to sleep with me.

I’ll dream dreams of  days long past.

Every morning my youth will greet me

as I awake in her embrace.

I turn toward home. She’ll be comfortable and safe

lying in the back of my old station wagon,

a short ride to her new abode.

A moment or two I dally in the kitchen,

then head out to make her mine.


She is gone, crushed and broken. Her splinters

Mingle with the foulest of remains

in the innards of the trash truck.

Distracted, I let  her die.

Distracted, I die.


Oh,  Lord, when you bless,

give me focus to receive.

Give me the gift

of instant obedience

to make the most

of every moment

for the days are evil

And trash swallows beauty.



By A. Allen Rowe

Asad Abu Antun

One reply on “The dame I let die”

Unintended consequences! I have been accused of adultery! The poem is about a bed frame!

Here’s the situation. I was sleeping on an air mattress, “camping out here” working on repairing my house in Grapevine, Texas. The air mattress had a slow leak. Waking up in the wee hours on the concrete is no fun!!

One morning while out walking I saw this lovely, solid, like new bed frame on the curb. I went home to get the car. I was too slow. The trash truck came and gobbled it up. I was very sad.

A few days later I came across a king size mattress with springs and metal frame. I did get that one home before the trash guys came for it. Now, I sleep well on a real mattress!

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