I could, but don’t,
wallow in despair.
I could give up, but won’t,
because you are no longer there.
A trick of the mind
leaves that behind.
From negative to positive
is how I choose to live.
I can’t do it over
but like four leaves of clover
I can learn to better sing
and every little thing
is swept into a pile
and I’ll
just take y’all with me
holding to the myth we
make together from detritus
not obviated by arthritis
as we play the game of life
dissecting like a knife
the good from bad
happy from sad
and, excuse my language, trump
the knave
so he’ll behave
and wars will cease
and we’ll have peace.