Trust comes to me, so hard, it seems
You’d think I’d be prepared
For touch so thoughtlessly, embossed to me:
My skin caught unaware
Handled thus; improperly, it’s got to me,
I pronounce: “It isn’t fair!”
But fair or not, heart’s robbed from me
And I-enwebbed-am snared
Willow's Glen 
Love it!
And thanks for your enthusiasm for my pastrami limerick. Since you’re partial to rhymed verse, I hope you’ll consider participating in my weekly Limerick-Offs. The current one is here: Limerick Advance.
I post a new one every Sunday, and they run all week, with winners announced early Sunday.
Thanks again!
Thanks for inviting me. If I write something that works for it, I’ll try to remember to participate (I’m very flighty and often forget things).
The price of being mortal. The price of caring.
Everything has a price to pay. It’s just a matter of discerning how much a thing is worth.