Metaphorically Speaking

I was all ears, that morning when,

Beneath the smirking sky,

He let the cat out of the bag –

(Good Grief!)  Heaven knows why.

Prudently, I bit my tongue.

He had an axe to grind.

He beat around the bush and then . . .

Commenced to blow my mind.

It seemed to me he’d come unglued,

(And gone completely mad.)

Though, he liked to put me on

And was a joker, I might add.

He wore rose colored glasses.

And, would bark up the wrong tree.

And when he talked finances:

He was talking Greek to me.

So, I went back to the drawing board,

And weighed each thing he’d said.

I counted, and I knocked on wood:

Then hit the nail, right on the head.

For suddenly, I smelled a rat

(Though, he thought he had me pegged) 

. . . I'm not buying:  his new truck
(He claims) cost him . . . an arm and leg.

note:  a very hectic week and, thus, a very late (and unlinked) response to Poetry Jam’s Prompt of “Writing” (which got me pondering metaphors, imagery and idioms ).

photo:  Through Rose Colored Glasses  (photo is of the Irving House in New Westminster:  the oldest remaining home on the Lower Mainland of British Columbia) – W. Bourke

© 2015 Wendy Bourke