Cards

Through and through, the wind and rain, I am the lucky one, but none in vain. For my hands flow freely, Fleetingly working through pain. I pour myself in, All and some change. Secluded and solemn, My works are my own. I have finally learned them, The seeds have been sown. When my life’s crumbling, And when my world turns fake. What I can do, what I love, Tends to ease the ache. For when the world has turned its back, And when my fire turns cold. I can keep my self alive and warm, By playing the few cards I hold. I scan my hand and daringly smile, This round I do not fold.