Saturday, September 29, 2018

My Finest Hour

This is my worst hour of the day
Waiting here in bed for the pain to go away,
waiting for the meds to work, and keep the beasts at bay,
It helps to know that this is - the worst hour of the day.

I always have believed that life is sweet and sour.
It's never been more true before than in this most painful hour.
Simply to get through it - imagination I must scour
for the tiniest grains of anything, to keep from being dour.

It's not just words on paper now; I often write on screen;
its the one place I can turn and write; with some things left unseen.
But I must never trod the path to become petty or be mean,
You know I'm simply not the type who wants to make a scene.

It doesn't really take much time to write these silly poems and songs.
And doesn't matter anyway, I don't have to wait too long.
In about an hour, while still feeling less than  strong
I'll be wondering, deep inside, how things ever went this wrong...

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