Don’t do it they all cried,
Insinuating I have not tried,
So hard have I worked,
That my mind has forked,
Reports that my brain has fried,
Act to spur friends sighed,
Collect pieces previously talked,
Thoughts gone, morals baulked,
Ideas past their time, is lied,
Over and over till I cried.
Nothing works, but I tried.
About the Creator
Peter Rose
Collections of "my" vocal essays with additions, are available as printed books ASIN 197680615 and 1980878536 also some fictional works and some e books available at Amazon;-
amazon.com/author/healthandfunpeterrose
.
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munsona day ago in Fiction
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