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 20^th, 2017

8 minute writing exercise.