Looking up at the sky I can see the ghosts of all the things that have fallen on my head
Unceremoniously, bang.
It hurts a little
A lot
They leave marks.
But I'll wear pretty hats.
Distraction

I have to collect them all
together, in a big pile
proof that I survived the crazy dance around the house
day to day
it's exasperating
pinning them up on the wall
they fall off and I trip

You wouldn't care for it much
Nor would I
It's a big fat bore
I'll fall into a pile of leaves instead
watch them flutter
twirl around and become my new world
Autumnal

I'll drag them behind, if that's what I'm meant to do
no intention to really
I'll huff and be tired
but if there's double knots and super glue
well
a sigh for the weary
and onward