Junk? I Love You More Than Ice Cream

Junk, you say? Well, I suppose,

But take it from someone who knows.

There are two kinds of junk, indeed—

The kind that's trash and the kind you need.

When junk's around that's got some promise

I just know it, like I'm Nostradamus—

On a much lesser scale (please take no offense;

I'm not predicting global events).

And when I spot my treasured find,

A junk-induced dopamine shoots from my mind;

It floods my cells like a smooth Vermouth.

I guess you could call me a "junkie," in truth.

So, I say to my junk, "Come home with me;

We'll find a place for you to be.

You'll have a purpose—inspire a dream.

Junk? I love you more than ice cream."

 

© 2024 Teresa Miles Kephart