If I write slower I would end up with the same output that I have now.

This is not to say that I’m unhappy with my output. (Well, maybe a little.) If I put my mind to it, I can generally come up with something to say. (Some might say too much!) But the truth of the matter is, one has to practise in order to improve.

So I practise. Some days more than others. Most days it’s prose, but once in a while some lyrics slip in.

This is not one of those days.


A Friend

A good friend always helps you see things rationally.

It may not be the way you want to see them. It may be difficult to see them that way. To see the reality of the situation. But a good friend will be there to help you see it properly, and to help you accept what you see, and to move on.

A good friend will help you pick up the pieces, and will give you a sanity check when necessary.

Or they might just curl up on your lap and purr.

My Days

The best day would be one where I finish everything on my ToDo list.

I mean, it has happened, but it is rare.

And yet, even though I feel I have accomplished something on those days, it feels as if the accomplishment is very small. There is always so much else to do.

And then there are the days when my cat comes and jumps up on me, just to look at me and purr. Or even to lie on top of me and to sleep. And the days when I spend time with my husband, just being together, holding hands, seeing something new. Or just talking. About us. About the universe. About our cats.

Those are the very best days of all.


My inbox is overflowing
With emails of all sorts
Subscriptions to eletters
And to groups
It seemed like the idea
To sign up at the time
But now I fear
I only jump through hoops

I never seem to clear it
I unsub left and right
And still the messages
Continue to come in
I try to read them all
But they put me to sleep
My interest in the news
Has seemed to thin

Maybe I should just hit delete
And get rid of all
But then I might miss
Something important
So for now I’ll keep on scrolling
To search for what I need
But my willingness to read
Is being shortened


I want to dream
About spaceships and kings
And eleven maids
And more
I want to dream
About castles grand
And a dance on
An aliens shore

I want to dream
Of fiery steeds
Of dragons on
The wing
I want to dream
Of mighty quests
Great deeds and
Other things

I want to dream
Of all these things
I want to sing
And dance
And so I read
These lovely books
That’s how I’ll get
My chance


My super power is to worry
I worry about this and of that
I’m so good at worrying
That I never need to wonder
If I’ll have something to do
With my brain
‘Cuz it’s all
About what

Could possibly go wrong today
Or will there be some lunch, or a snack
It fills up my days
With a fine, sweet mental haze
All my hours
Are quite full
With a lack

Of sensible thoughts or ideas
A philosophy of life and of death
I’d like to have a life
That’s not so full of strife
In my brain
But I guess
With each breath

My brain will continue to worry
It seems there’s nothing better to do
Maybe I’ll read a book
Or go and have a look
At some cats
Or perhaps
Have a brew

If I Knew I Couldn’t Fail

If I knew I couldn’t fail,
I’d soar up to the sky
I’d set out on adventures
I would not fear to fly

If I knew I couldn’t fail
I’d take another chance
I’d find myself a new love
I’d even learn to dance

If I knew I couldn’t fail
I’d have a new career
I’d make new discoveries
My life would hold no fear

But alas, I’m all too human
And errors I will make
And that’s no reason not to try
So new thirsts I will slake

I’ll try my wings tomorrow
I’ll learn new things today
I may fail, but I will try
And that is still okay