The usual things are happening;
awesome and not awesome.
The usual thoughts are not happening.
I can't find that badger hole
in the tall grass of my memory
down which I hoard the hurt
of every perceived failure.
Bedtime comes earlier
and dreams are filled with
dogs and cats and horses.
My shoe is untied
so to speak.
Every time I kneel down
to shore up the knot
it's a boot soaking in
gentle waves of Mediterranean ocean,
like Italy.
6 comments:
I like this one. It seems like an ease is settling over you now that you are an old man.
Hee Hee, Angel. Gave me a chuckle.
I think you may be one of the youngest old men I've ever known, Mr. eternal baby face. Guess that comes with the territory when you're a spaceman, huh?
Oh geez, don't tell him that!
You're going to throw him into a pit of despair because he's been waiting and wanting to be an old guy for quite some time
and/or
get him bouncing around telling everyone he sees that he's blessed with everlasting youth while they all are getting fat and withered.
Ha ha ha... gave me another chuckle.
:)
Might there be a third possibility? And if so, what?
I like your scenarios thus far. Wonder what the baby-faced spaceman will have to say/add.
The next time this ball lands in my back yard you kids aren't getting it back!!!
Laughter be good--balls too, especially when everyone plays nice. :D
Have a good'un.
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