Go, take care of your/
fam’ly. Forget me. That’s how/
it prob’ly should be.
Go, take care of your/
fam’ly. Forget me. That’s how/
it prob’ly should be.
As I sit in church/
next to my goodly parent/
I feel gratitude.
Or
My spirit’s grateful.
Look at your finger./
Again. That’s NOT the center/
of the Universe.
Woman, alone, danced./
Solo, I (in balcony),/
watched and joined with her.
My father was right./
He told me: “There is beauty /
everywhere.” There is.
I’ll probably be/
hardest on you for being/
most hard on youself.
I’m co-dependent./
My mirror’d face asks others/
for affirmation.
In my solo years,/
I have not become moody,/
just introspective
ORjust contemplative
OR become withdrawn
Or become sullen
A friend’s brother, who was a guitar and banjo maestro, recently passed away. He befriended the homeless, bringing them home for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
This holiday season, I saw a homeless man standing on the corner, in the rain, with a guitar case next to him. I thought of my friend’s brother, rolled down the window, gave the minstrel some money, and said “There should always be music!” Then I wrote this.
She won’t even know/
I gave money to homeless/
guys with wet guitars.