04-29-2013, 04:58 PM
Is there a thumbs down smilie ? I want to give this effort one 
But a good promt Milo..well for me anyway, as it took me right out of my comfort zone to write about something i wouldn't normally touch.
When all is quiet, I look at what has been said and done.
Each item eroded and eaten away, ticked off one by one,
‘till all that is left is a crumpled heap in an ash tray,
waiting to be taken away and I suppose, burnt one day.
Each day is more precious than the last, yet more tedious
and painful. The children come in after school, studious
looks of dubious joy; their uncertain smiles cause my heart
to scream. Iin the now, I focus on homework to play my part.
The news the other day, was full of faux pathos for a woman,
who had died just hours after a shock diagnosis. Salmon
pink lips and cinnamon hair, she looked delicious. I don’t care
for this lingering tender kiss, whilst I rot and loose my hair.
No doubt the morning chat shows will pick up it up and run,
I could make their day - call in…but its all’s been said and done
before and then before, the aftermath of then. I’ve planned my then,
each last julienned word, a phone list of friends. My list without end.
There it is, crumpled in the out tray. I’ve got all day for a re-write.
My life's already been written. Got pictures to prove it. Me all bright
and smiley, a babe, a child…a wifey! Look at the hair! Four hours to go,
I will write another list, whilst I wait for the kids. Despair. Then call a show.
But a good promt Milo..well for me anyway, as it took me right out of my comfort zone to write about something i wouldn't normally touch.
When all is quiet, I look at what has been said and done.
Each item eroded and eaten away, ticked off one by one,
‘till all that is left is a crumpled heap in an ash tray,
waiting to be taken away and I suppose, burnt one day.
Each day is more precious than the last, yet more tedious
and painful. The children come in after school, studious
looks of dubious joy; their uncertain smiles cause my heart
to scream. Iin the now, I focus on homework to play my part.
The news the other day, was full of faux pathos for a woman,
who had died just hours after a shock diagnosis. Salmon
pink lips and cinnamon hair, she looked delicious. I don’t care
for this lingering tender kiss, whilst I rot and loose my hair.
No doubt the morning chat shows will pick up it up and run,
I could make their day - call in…but its all’s been said and done
before and then before, the aftermath of then. I’ve planned my then,
each last julienned word, a phone list of friends. My list without end.
There it is, crumpled in the out tray. I’ve got all day for a re-write.
My life's already been written. Got pictures to prove it. Me all bright
and smiley, a babe, a child…a wifey! Look at the hair! Four hours to go,
I will write another list, whilst I wait for the kids. Despair. Then call a show.