I am steadily working, as best as I am able, to move stroke away from the centre of my being.
I feel it would be nice to put it on a shelf over there and get on with the more important, interesting, amusing, beautiful things that life has to offer.
Inside my head,
something said,
“Who cares? Don’t cry!”
“We will get by.”
“We’ve not had enough.
We can still do stuff.”
I’ll write me a clever ode
as I sit on my commode.
Laugh at the rain,
smile at my brain.
Always say “Hi”
never ask why.
Are you still here ? ?
“Of course, my dear.”
Always near,
never fear.
. . . just makin’ lemonade from these lemons . . .
keep on keepin’ on
