Past personal concepts have been flawed
The frosting on the cake licked clean of sweetness
Only the cake is left
It’s grown moldy
So I throw it out into the trash
What a waste, I think
Then come back into the room to fill the washer with laundry
It is fulfilling a desperate need to push forth
No need to sort I just toss it all in and put it on warm
Grabbing my coffee to watch the sunrise
It is another chance to get it right
To be found or to find
Should it happen, I know not
Only of each day sought out in destiny, fate, or perchance time.
I never believed time worked things out as they say
Perhaps it will prove to me it does.
If not, what have I lost?
As long as I’m useful.
Angela K. Crandall