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The daughter was 44, head down and frowning
Mother, who goes unaged, unchanged, continues to speak
About her.
Nothing new, this habit gone unchecked
Nothing new, always upsetting
Both hearts broken.


The art of the stall
Please read this
Please read this now.

The suffering
In the waiting
And the ending
No art at all.

I want to do it all
I do nothing
I fear I’ll do it wrong
Nothing comes again.

What if it’s not perfect

What if I succeed..and they want more
Overwhelmed then swamped with fears and questions
I lift no finger.

But my family comes first

I have no time

The art- martyr out, life in

Prioritize, organize, one day at a time.

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