Sunday, May 21, 2017

The Sigh

Sighing and weaseling away the time
like woodpeckers devouring the slime
from bugs running here and there
to feed their young in a hidden lair.

There's not much time left for this old gal
who bonds with nature and makes it her pal.
'tis too much trouble to tell all the facts,
because it's ho-hum and leaves no tracks.

Swish, swirl and dream through the night
of a brighter day and a better sight.
No dream suffices, I soon discover,
as I lay glued with my latest lover.

All fades and dies in the next dire dream
'til I finally realize I'm not what I seem.
This girl was thinking that soon she'll die.
The Son of God can only sigh.

Janet Spiller
May 20th, 2017
8 minute writing exercise.

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