Trace cute


What a strange little word.

Born out of German zwei.

And Old English twa.

And the Latin duo.

Which means “two.”

So says trusty Webster.

You…and you too.

Equals two.

One more than one.

But both are only one syllable.

Not that there’s anything wrong with one.

The lone wolf.

A solitary oak.

One roadrunner.

Always just one.

Or the sun.

Imagine having two.

One is the number expressing unity.

Forming a whole.


But it can’t be divided evenly.

It takes one to get to two.

There’s no way around it.

Some twos stay together forever too.

Two Inca doves.

Two red birds.


Maybe your parents.

Or grandparents.

Some don’t mate for life.

Like fish.

And cows.

And geckos.

No matter who or what you are, it takes two to tangle.

Or is that…tango?

Maybe two left feet dancing the Texas two-step.

But two can divide.

With two sides to every story.



Double trouble.

Oh well.

A table for two is usually too small anyway.

Maybe two heads aren’t better than one.

One head sees it one way.

The other head can’t.

Even if it was hit by a two-by-four.

How ‘bout two for tea.

And tea for two.

With two hearts beating as one.

That’s Mason.


Read more poetry!

Renee Walker is a poet, writer, and real estate broker on the Square with her canine assistant, Buster.  


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