The very second I put down my pen,
I began my process all over again.
I've been getting up at 7 o'clock (am).
Why?
Such a dangerous question.
If I were to wonder why
I comb my hair, I'd have the answer.
If I asked myself why eat meals
at 7:30, 12:00, and 5:00,
I'd have an answer.
But I don't know why I have answers.
Why do I care when I eat and
how presentable I appear?
I fear someday I'll wake up and
ask why I should wear pants, or
why even stand?
That day, I might crawl to the
front porch, and carry a
newspaper and slippers to the dog.
Ever question your life? I do. Sadly, I don't own a dog, but I'll get one again.