Grab My Hand

February 28, 2009


Sweet history of life in which sorrow
is a malfunction in punctuation,
so hang on, dawn, on the road from
work-a-day down on, a song
rough sung along the way.
And hear from the wizzard of ah’s
that near the shore a man of clay
wades in shallow waters along
the beach across bay, melting.

About charles frenzel

I've been writing all my life. I've also painted, composed, sculpted, contributed to molecular research, advanced some mathematical concepts, lived on a sailboat, and worked for a Nobel Prize winner. Nothing in my life has pleased me more than to share my life with my wife and friend of over forty years.

View all posts by charles frenzel


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