Poor Baby

On Tuesdays I commute, to lend a hand
with work I’ve done for half a century.
My brain’s still functional – I understand
the guts of a consulting industry.
But he whom I support has got to be
at home in isolation (Covid’s way).
So I will put my mind to poetry,
and see how many puzzles I can play.


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

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