There is a place, I can always go.
When the world knocks me down!
I hear the count, I tell myself "stay down, stay down!"
Old age always, chips away, at the body, the mind, not sculpting a masterpiece, rather, destroying the beautiful, youthful body and imagination we once possessed.
Such shame I cannot deposit a fraction of youthfulness, to be withdrawn, when spiraling towards oblivion!
Frays of the never ending daily demands, destroy, one day at a time.
I must . . . hold my head high, though worn, frazzled looking down and out.
What be my answer, wish for more . . . of this staying around?
Not too long ago I was ready, the future looked bleaker every (expletive) night!
Then a miracle I say happened, not in a night, through many, many, moons.
The several year completion of my first story, a true midnight dream, titled appropriately "The Flame" a battle of will, never known surfaces. "Please stick around till the last sundown!"
What you read most days has been a five year battle of survival, although it doesn't seem like much to some, I'm sure! Believe me when I say "It has been a monumental challenge to one who has never typed, never understood the complexity of the "English Properness" as I call it! "I am ME and wish to be none other! I shall think, and write my way!
I've said it once I'll say it again "If not for this new hobby of putting my thoughts to words, I'd stay down, nary a reason it seems most times to get up. Like paddling against an ever increasing current, USELESS! Glen