Home Alone

I haven’t got a thing I want to say.
I can’t imagine any company
that might inspire me to talk today,
although I diagnose no lethargy
or sadness, for my health and sanity
appear as well as normal. I don’t moan
and can’t complain of any agony.
I’m luck to be quiet here, alone.


This entry was posted in Aging, Home, Personality, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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