Author’s note: A little whimsy, completed, so I’ll avoid the holiday rush and move on to something else. Happy New Year! A.S.
IS TOMORROW JUST another day, or
spring-loaded in a Swiss-watch way,
to shoot us through the bitter year,
dog days of summer, rain, clear,
into another autumn fall,
death in winter
I’ll recall,
regret,
small,
tiny.
Yet,
the sun
will shine
again I bet
and I again
will laugh aloud
ride a bike, hike in clouds
write a song ears won’t hear
write a book that touches dear
The most primal revelations – fear.
Swim in waves of cold rejections, in left-handed presentation
“love the story not the writing,” “the writing’s good the story’s lacking.”
My pessimism isn’t real — I say — but I’m far too deep to grant appeal
I’m blessed beyond the average man so I’ll keep on slinging ink my friend.
© 2014