Thoughts To Lock in the Attic With Slow Cousin Larry
That little nagging thought
came again this morning.
The one I usually quickly push to the side,
hidden from all conversation
or the light of day.
Much like they used to do with the idled child
to be hidden in the attic
or locked from all eyes in a dark back room.
Who I am writing this for?
And why?
Who will read it?
Will anybody care?
Is there a single one that it will touch?
Is there anyone looking for the thoughts
of this journey
of the whys and how’s
of this life?
Asking the question means having to face the answer.
Can’t do that . . . can’t do that.
February 17, 2019
Sunday morning – 8:15
(Up since around 5:30 which is the pattern these days)
By the lake, of course
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