Some days its simply that kind of day;
of thin skin and the Imagination Of Bad Things
at the ready, hunched at the starting line
fingers pressed into the track, just waiting
for that shot to ring.
Some days its enough to get out of bed and slog
your way to the bathroom and kitchen and outside and inside
and simply do what
you must.
And then other days? Why, the sun gleams in the window,
And then other days? Why, the sun gleams in the window,
warming your wakening face.
The cracks in the walls stream this fresh air,
The cracks in the walls stream this fresh air,
while your steaming tea paints stories in the cold kitchen air.
Some days you can hardly budge,
Some days you can hardly budge,
and you use up
all your trying in the first few hours.
But no matter. Here we all are, quietly
But no matter. Here we all are, quietly
making
our way the best we can,
surrounded by majesty and sorrow,
great love ,and a
few really funny times.
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