I have this gift, that I have been given
to stay in the moment...
can my growing old, be translated into words?
old friends swapping stories, of ailments...
There was an old lady,
who lived on the floor...
my path going forward, clinging to the cliff face...
It’s hard when you get that dreadful feeling
Like there’s nothing in your power to stop...
Good thing I'm a writer.
I play with words and not with fire...
I adopt the pose of the Greek “thinker” of old...
[believe it or not that was a pickup line for me...
crestal ball on my table
show me the future in my past...
a stark reminder that reflections, are not always...
delusion a comforter of note...
when I am short on inspiration, searching for...
driving in the fast lane, burning up a life
like firecrackers on Gi fox...
you see what you want to see!
your spin dictates your narrative...