A Typical Day

these bones rarely want to move
when the sun rises
they’d rather linger, linger
no matter how much I ache

and then the furball pounces
on feet and face
reminds me it’s time to feed
him and me

so it’s up to pee
then crunchies and water for him
take blood sugar and insulin for me
and finally breakfast (or lunch)

play ball with the puss while I read
emails and newsletters and poetry
and then I try to write something, anything
but often I fail

finally it’s nap time
and I curl up with black fur
as we sleep long into the day
only to be awaken by him, come home

It is a wash, rinse and wash again moment
up to pee, play with the fur, eat
try to write
and then the need to sleep, again

each night I am left with the knowledge
napping does not write poetry
but then again, neither does depression
and so I sleep

 

From The Daily Post, Rare Medium

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