Spiraled and Caught

"These words are my own from my heart." -- Natasha Beddingfield


 When  did the times  change?
I see our with new eyes today.
Where do the smiles hide?
 Now the wind blows my thoughts away.

I thought I once knew everything--
 or really,  had learned SOME thing,
 Yet now I sit stunned,  silent,  in stupor
 As the scenes before my eyes  deeply sting.

I know things are good;
 Well, I think they are,  anyway.
 But somehow I'm saddened,
 More  distant than anything.

 When have my cares taken over my joys?
I lack the freedom I once had to breathe.
I feel the tightness,  the clenching  that's deep in my chest
 Which on ce used  to float and cavort out  with ease.

 I could make bold decisions  and leap for the chances
 For latr drives,  for movies,  for running,  for  dances,
 For pizza,  for fellowship,  for speaking,  for  leading.
 Now instead,  my soul is left pleading

 For renewal of vows of the inmost  degree,
 For promises and spirit,
 For some new sparked opportunities.

I feel like a shell that I'm spiraled  and caught
 That the world passes  by me with no single thought.

 That the world passes by me with

 No

 single


 thought.

Patience

Morning:
6AM, no patience for the alarms
     Despite their chirping birds, rushing waterfalls, or melodic spirals
715, no patience for the coffee perc'ing, the Eggos toasting, the puppy playing
745 the lights, the cars, the children's buses all get in my way
                         So much for my time before work starts.

Work:
An hour or so of winding through towers of teetering totter, emails and research and planning and forms
At 10 the bell rings as a death knell for Duncan
     (My death is not murder, but no less betrayal)
     As streaming from haphazard lives sally forth the aching, the tired, the lazy, the burdened,
          The naiive, the dew-eyed, the kids wearing masks.

By 18 to 11 they've used up my patience:
I've answered their questions, I've told them my stories,
I've laughed at their jokes, and they've laughed at my foibles.
I've given them each my whole very best

And now, there is none for the rest.

Afternoon:
Twelve O'clock--Is it lunch? Can someone please handover the frozen dish I will munch?
Not quite enough time to finish the laugh, not enough to ingest while tasting some flavor.
The comments I choose must be carefully chosen as each spoken word only comes twice in a week
(There is too many'a showcase to describe of
To pause

For a second

To regain some peace.) And it's
Back
To the faces of unawares children
Not seeing the truths or experiences in life that I wish I had patience--
Or the luxury of patience--
To watch them grow into.
Instead it's more doldrum; the jokes have lost color.
The smile is now fake; the questions grow old.
Curiosity, once a praised beauty, is now only a hindrance that stops the

Evening:
4 or 5 or 630 or something, I pull in the driveway awaiting another adventure!

No adventure; we are too old for that.
Our new every morning is wrung out to dry by the time our home encompasses me.
The chipper puppy love brings a smile for a moment.
Cuddles are the only answer.

To restore peace to have patience:
Rest in the arms of the lover.
Dine on the savory indulgences of the day.
Leave behind the lost humanity of the day; it is gone with the questions in the wind.

Seek peace, seek peace, seek peace.

1004PM
11/13/13 egheck