On this cold summer morning, I pull my extra cover over my hairless aging legs. The moon seems to be going through some strange end times faze.
I enjoy my coffee and dare to watch the dreadful world news, nothing seems to changes, we’re still being lied to.
Hidden bigotry in plain sight,
manufacturing a reason to strike.
When will the cold morning fade
into the restful sleep of yesterday’s
……….

I sat in His wooden pews.
I knelt on His Jesus cross.
Reading the Holy news
mourning religion's loss.

Sitting at this table,
My sisters in their place,
My brother at the top,
With a baby by his waist.

We’re mostly parents now,
With our kids in tow,
But when I look at your faces,
I see the little kids I used to know.

We all have our own lives,
Of our own creation,
No longer just play pretend
On some summer vacation.

A brand new generation,
Being raised by us,
They’re little and young and free,
And I love them all so much.

Even when I don’t see them,
Or weather cancels our plans,
Being a sister, a mother, an aunt-
The best roles I could ever land.

And we’ll sit here at this table,
Loud, chaotic, and such,
Often I’m sad, honestly mad,
But in this moment, life has given me so much.