Like a big bag of potatoes
the weight of my body
has settled into lumps and bumps
that should never be there
My brain has settled into a rhythm
satisfied that I wake up every morning still
and gratified when the steam from
my first cup of coffee hits my nose
I read that the job of typist is extinct
so, no worries that my arthritic hands
will never type 100 words per minute again
and being basically unemployable
is a settlement I can live with
What I won’t settle for though
is a chair instead of a dance floor
someone hired to clean my house
silent musical instruments accusing me
that I skipped practice
and the lack of a voice to put things right!
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