It Matters To Me

It matters to me, When you write a poem, And I just can't see. Where to pause, for there's no comma, Where to stop, for there's no period. But maybe that's just me, That's what my teachers taught, Way back when I was wee. I also have an annoying habit, Of making full sentences, like, The wiley fox, chased the bunny rabbit. Maybe it doesn't matter to you, But good punctuation, is the glue, That hold a poem together. In bright sunshine, and inclement weather. But it matters to me, When I read your stuff, and for the love of me, I can't tell where a sentence ends, Halfway down the page or around the bend. And I just don't think it's right, To pull this crap making me uptight. Tell us what you really feel, Then we can see, your the real deal. Alton Texas