Poetry

Works get stolen.

Internet is free.

How no one sees the effort.

Behind the curtain.

I try to run free.

Interest is not there.

Attention.

Pets.

Snuggles.

Naps.

Purrs.

Head bumps.

But most of all, Neck Scritches.

Grey Areas are rife.

Good intentions are not always enough.

Put the effort in.

Even if you don’t have much.

Sometimes that is good enough.

The world turns.

It can be glittery.

Star studded.

Underneath are the unhoused.

Overlooked.

Ignored.

People you see

And those you don’t.

Today is tired.

It is unraveling.

Life is difficult.

I yearn to create a strong weave.

Yet, I find myself watching

As the the strands drift away

Out of my reach.

Ragged and torn I cry silently

As my world is ripped further apart.

The time between each

is what makes them a treat.

The quantity does not matter

though the quality sometimes does.

A treat is whatever makes you happy

for a short time before life comes back

and you have to rejoin the hordes of mayhem.

Replacing an ingredient in the baking recipe.

Using a shoelace as an impromptu belt.

Licking your fingers trying to get the stickiness off.

Should

does not always equate to Could.

Woman or male.

Tasks shared equally

does not mean equality.

It means that those who care to do the jobs

they prefer can do so.

Physically males may be stronger

but that does not mean

Women can not lift anything.

Nor does it mean

a man can not be the caregiver

to the children.

Division of labour

should be just that,

a division that allows for changes

and leeway when the roles are no longer working.

Relationships can be strange

but when you communicate

it can mean the world.

To you or to them.

I don’t wish to be seen.

I would like my name to be known.

Talking to people is hard.

Can I go home now?

Can I gain glory some other way.

Some way that is more comfortable to me?

No, I guess not.

Friends getting married.

I will be there.

I wish them well.

Yet, emotionally I feel displaced,

unattached not all here.

I will watch and cheer them on.

I wonder if my own bitter marriage

is interfering in my ability to be happy.

I am happy for them.

I just don’t want to do it myself,

ever again.