Summertime is calling....but not to me.
Barbecues are being enjoyed all around me to see.
Soaking up sunshine at beaches
Warm breezes caressing as they picnic at parks
Parades of the present, reminding of parades past
Brief glimpses of fireworks from the back door
No point in wanting to see more...
Festivals, I don't like crowds, and I don't like noise..
but I remember a tasty turkey drumstick..
would like just one more?
Inside is where my responsibility lies..
In staleness and silence
Hard to not envy, hard to not cry
So much has been missed, so much missed still
How long will it go on, how long till?
As I was feeding mom a few minutes ago and we were watching the Lord of the Dance video, I had the thought that there will be some who will look at this poem and think, boy she is self-centered...boo-hoo, why doesn't she just go and do some of these things? Or, what a horrible daughter, asking how long before her mom passes! As I feed her a spoon of nutritional pudding, looking at her slender, fragile frame now confined to bed because of the pinched nerve in my neck, yeah, I can ask how long till...and not be a monster, but someone who has given up basically everything to try and give her mom the best care she can as long as she can, but how long is that....so I can maybe go to a picnic again? I know who of you get this and understand.