Tumour

Oddly,

if searching for a (possible) familial adverse reaction

it would have been an incidental find – a saving find.

But why, as

*“When you hear hoof beats, think of horses not zebras.” 

So horses it is as the zebra runs wild.

(The mind still has it…)

(Somewhere a butterfly flutters – an advent of the storm.)

(There is madness here: 

Please inscribe on my gravestone

I told you so; I really did tell you so!)

Zebra grazes fat on the grass.

(I tell Eddy what the food tastes like as he tells me what it looks like.)

Eddy is dead now, yet I still live (unaware of the chaos to come.)

(The mind still has it…)

Anna :o]

Bjorn at Real Toads has us writing of order in chaos and above is my offering.  It is a true story.

 *"When you hear hoof beats, think of horses not zebras."

Also shared with the good folks at Poets United - cheers Mary!

Image:  Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Author:  Nevit Dilmen (talk)

(Please note that image is not correct to the diagnosis and is not about me, rather someone I love.)

To Michael

Late summer brings with it industry, for, for far too long my home has been neglected, but by necessity.  Working full time and caring for my lovely hubs Michael (for sixteen years) left little time for anything else.  But as seasons change, so does life.  Michael has lived in a wonderful care home for two years and I retired from work last November.

Initially, after retirement, I dwelt in that wonderful place of my time, where the only person I owed was me.  Happy in my apathy, I ignored the ingress of rain as it cascaded through the extension roof, preferring to place buckets rather than deal with it.  But as summer came and the grass grew and I knew I wasn’t physically fit enough to mow it, I had the garden landscaped and the roof repaired.

I then knew that I must concentrate on my home, for it is my home and not just a house.  I knew I must arrange for the house to be rewired, for the wiring is as old as the house, nearly fifty years.  I gave myself three weeks before the start date, thinking it enough to lift carpets and clear cupboards and wardrobes.  Little did I realise memories lost in the clutter.  (The British Red Cross needed a van to take the clutter away to their shop – the memories remain here.)

Autumn will come soon

echoing sweet  memories,

you are my summer.

Anna :o]

Toni at dVerse has us writing of the space between season and above is my offering.  Cheers Toni!

Image:  Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Author:  Tony Webster