She's our woman who does
so she is
here once a week
her name is Viv
she sweeps the floor
washes the tiles
arranges the papers in neat little piles
flicks a duster across a few things
breaks a saucer
and gently places it into the bin

Although I feel
As midlife as the crisis of my panic
Living hurriedly

Even so
I think and act like a twenty something
Pining for substance

When I realize now-a-days
This **** reality stinks
This forty second anniversary

A year of so-so
A somewhat some say sore
Wanting something more

Than invisible

Although it's true
There is wisdom with being
A lone leaf on the wind...

My rocket has yet to come
Comely
I try patience
Then think again
Bigger
Dares to dream again
Reminding myself
Believe

Of more
Of you
With me.

*(Can't wait for forty three)