Starving for ideas to fill it.
Perfect and clean and smooth.
Snow, waiting for the Angels and forts;
Grandma's tablecloth, just before the spaghetti dinner.
My pen tumbles from my hand,
Trying to begin it by ending it all.
Strays are better than nothing,
And the smeary squiggle in the margin
Lends a liquid courage that even a mother could love.
Between the lessons I teach
And the lessons I learn,
The gardens in the yard
And the tender saplings upstairs,
Look for the secret codes: SOS -- save our sanity.
Don't take too much time
To decode the message,
For then you will be sure to find
The wormholes in my quaint collectibles.
The sanity I save is my own.
Just smile and wave as you pass by.
