Allison

It ain't no game when he climbs rank

How you gonna stop a tank?

Better not turn your back on GANX

When he shootin' they ain't blanks.

The last sound you'll hear is his knife,

Clickity-clankity shank.

Traders parade, they see his bank,

Run zombie or you'll get spanked.

When his screen goes off, black, and blank

His world gets even more dank.

Allison, her butt, his wife,

Their love is well-done, and rare, like perfect flank steak.

Thunderstorm

She welcomes the summer sun's scorn,

Mountains, trails and boots both worn.

Wildflowers like fields of corn
Smells and shade and views galore.

This season sets her heart to sing,

Her love is deep yet she is torn.

Sweaters for those crisp drip fall morns,

The reds, the yellows, the orange.

Winter and fire oh so warm,

Cheer and lights and much much more.

But grandest are windows in spring,

For it is to the thunderstorm that she is sworn.