Tuesday Blues Day

Down in the dumps

Not due to Trump’s

Swaggering boast bumps

That land on my heart/mind with painful thumps

Perhaps it’s the season

Or no special reason...

There’s just no pleasin’

My honey or me this morning, we’re wheezin’

Logey and tired

Both feeling mired

Now coffee has wired

Us to jitters, still blue, both too uninspired

To get up and DO.

What’s usually true

Is nowhere in view

Our energy zapped, in need of a nap to zap this blue

Is it mere numbers?

Needing naps and more slumbers?

One daughter is FORTY

I’m sixty-eight, he’ll be SEVENTY come January

No reason to rhyme

There just isn’t time

The hour glass sand

Drains faster each day, while we question all that we've planned

Are we quite grown?

We've babes of our own

But feel newly sown

And the weight of the world makes us audibly groan

Are we mature?

Or full of manure?

Deceitful tenure

Cheers, jeers and taunts haunt our dreams of grandeur

Is this a crisis of faith?

The dark night’s cold wraith?

The soul’s uncertain beseeching

Feels like a twelve ton whale’s baleful, desperate beaching

This too shall pass

My Gram would assess

May I trust that our glass

Is not broken nor empty, but that when the class

Is done and the bell rings

We’ll be glad of the wings

That end of life brings

And fly away home to the Music of Spheres as it sings?

May it be so... but not yet...