The world and I
are not on speaking terms
these days. This world I
usually hold at an
affectionate but wary distance
(as if it were a big, floppy dog—
friendly looking but a stranger)
Oh this world growled and lunged
for you. I’m waving my arms to distract
it, on guard and worried
what happens if my arms get tired?
One day at a time is what I tell you
what we tell each other
and repeat to ourselves and to
the wild dog you’re trying to tame
I like your tag line…everyday poetry, everyday. I can relate to waving arms and wondering what will happen when my arms get tired. Have a good day.