Always ready to dismember whatever papers I need,
letting them be found immediately.
Appreciating the way everything lies beautifully
in an array of poetical settings in just my style.
Whenever my husband decides to rummage through my
desk, however, everything is put out of order and
I can no longer find anything in my style of
disorderly order.
Forlorn and angry, because I have no perception of anything anymore.Struggling with feelings of abandonment, I sit outside realms of reality and try to manage life without anyone in it.
Sitting, staring, looking at the young, wondering where life has gone – wondering where the love they gave so unselfishly all these years could possibly have gotten lost.All around them are questions getting old – with no answers as the years go by.Everything seems to pass them as they grow old and a heart stops…
insisting that people partakeof life-giving essences,especially at the end.
Sounding off with little or no effort on my part.Tinging every tone with rhythms of my own, alone on shores of earth on days of unending bliss.
Taken together we escape and leave earth for another plain, unseen.
Finding a sort of reflection mirroring life’s extensive existence in a polarity of mathematical deliverance.
