Another poem

Discussion in 'Fibromyalgia Main Forum' started by Landy, Mar 22, 2006.

  1. Landy

    Landy New Member


    The hours ticked by eight, ten,
    and twelve, even more.
    There are never enough hours
    In a day. So many things to do.

    Days turn into weeks.
    Weeks turn into months.
    Months turn into years,
    And soon you are no more.

    This to do and that to.
    Stuff piled to the ceiling.
    What is a person to do?

    Stuff on the floor
    On the chair
    And soon someone ask,
    Where are you? Are you there?

    Here I am.
    Under the piles of forms.
    Across from taxes.
    Below the Bills.

    You need what?
    You think it's where?
    I think that's over there.

    Time off I think
    I need a day
    To Ponder.

    October 2002- Fibromyalgia

    [This Message was Edited on 03/22/2006]
  2. RockiAZ

    RockiAZ New Member

    Thanks for sharing that one Landy! Loved it!

    Live, Laugh, Love,

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