Late in the night and still writing
stopping only for a moment to let the cat out
and wondering why I never find it in a bag.
Sometimes stepping outside on the balcony
thinking of jumping but watching the scenery,
life has a way of making one stay.
If I frown
the moon, who’s an old friend
looks down on me
as if to say,
get over yourself, you misery,
and so I smile more often than not.
Lots to be thankful for.
© 2020, John Smallshaw.