Waiting on the girls for school,
“You can choke down on a brownie,
I suppose,” is uttered from my wife’s lips,
As I consider her accidental in-line rhyme.

Then standing to pump gas,
“Oh look, it’s gone up yet again,”
I think, hating that we own two cars,
Face marred with pessimism on change.

Finally, “Ah, I can smell the rain,”
I ponder, as it prepares to envelop us all,
Stalling for no one. It’s time to acquiesce.