Sometimes when you’re sandwiched between crises
and you’re going through it without your mother,
you just need to come out and play a little polo,
find your balance with some red clover.
Maybe slip your laptop into the red case
and head to some sweet spot that sells veggies
with a little turkey. Because that’s how you roll
when you contain multitudes
and you need to take a stanza break,
maybe write a book.
But because today’s your birthday and you are the gift,
we’re going to chase some pickups and pick up some pieces.
So you just have to sing along and remind yourself that
still. still. still.
it’s all going to be okay.
A quickly pieced poem found in Megan’s latest blog posts… with a few additions of my own words. Love you, friend. And happy birthday.
Still yet singing,