Rhyming riddle

I recently spoke to my very dear friend Steve, he pointed out that it was impossible to post a comment due to the restrictions in the settings. I have now corrected this and it is now very easy to post a comment.
My friend Steve, an intellectual and gifted men who happens to be fit as a fiddle, also pointed out that my posted poems did not rhyme. In his best interest I now give the following offering.

To make this instrument
you must start with a whittle.
To learn how to play it
you must start with a tweedle.
Pay attention; lesson one,
keep your bow in the middle.
Do you know what it is?
It rhymes with this riddle.

Petals

I held a flower in my hand
and plucked the petals one by one,
the last one feathered to the ground
and now the answer is so clear;
she loved me,
she loves me not.

Sad news.

Yesterday we received the terrible news, Myles Davis a gifted musician and an honor to his name sake, past away at the tender age of 21. A band and classmate of my step son Alexander since the seventh grade, throughout jr. and high school and at the FIU marching band. Myles was one of those special souls that touched others with his music and infectious smile. He always had a gleam in his eyes, a zest and zeal for a life that will now leave us questioning, what if?
He died as he lived, unselfishly; yesterday at around 1:30 pm an afternoon thunderstorm caused a high tension electric wire to break and fall unto the street in front of Myles worksite, seeing that the wire had fallen unto the street and seeing the dangers to the passing cars but not seeing the danger to himself, he ran out and tried to remove the cable. He died instantly. “Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13.
We will miss Myles, but his smile will live in our hearts forever and the sweet sound of his trumpet will ring in our ears.
Rest in peace Myles Davis.

…too short the times
we shared divine
but now you’re gone
and we, left behind
lifting your name high
will not forget
a friend so dear
remains in our heart…

Red wine (Haiku)

It’s not red wine, yet;
I, like a fool stumbling drunk.
It’s your lips, your kiss.

*

The man on the moon

It has been forty years since man first stepped on the moon. I can’t help but to get emotional every time I hear the words of Neil Armstrong, “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”. Yet I wonder what should be humanities perspective of this, mans greatest adventure.

The man on the moon looks down at us
And we are so small this he knows.
Yet from our perch standing tall,
We look back at him so full of pride,
Thinking we’ve conquered the universe.
Save for our station hanging by a thread,

We’re but a speck.

As the universe unfolds.

…small my world
house to work
work to house
wake to sleep
sleep to wake
sake-forsake
make a brake
unresolved
small my world…

The danger with tea.

A spot of tea.
Clumsy me,
Stumbled my cup, splash.
On my shirt a stain irremovable,
A feast for microscopic beings.
White cotton blemished,
Remove at all cost
Abrasives and chemicals
Rub and scrub,
Brush and scour,
Try as I may persistent remained.
Void, no other choice
Reference to the closet,
Away in a corner
Under un-wearable,
Food for moth.

And now you’ve been warned,
A lesson well learned.
The danger you see,
Is in a spot of tea.