The Care Giver
I got out of bed
In the middle of the night
My time is not my own
I do the tasks
That are required of me
My own sleep I do disown.
From one task to another
I go from room to room
Making sure everything is alright
I’m doing my best
And often I get it wrong
But sometimes I get it right.
Full-time job
On top of that
The foundations are about to crack
I do my best
With what I have
No time to take a nap.
But at night
I take flight
And my mind visits distant lands
My heart breaks out
In artistic scraps
Which I write with my crippled hand.
I do not begrudge
My lot in life
It is what it is, I know
But my poems and muse
Keep my “feet” moving
Leading me on the path to home.
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