Leaning back on old hats,

they die hard,

like John McClane,

reverting to destructive tendencies,

this time… to make it right,

crashing through that pesky glass ceiling,

our brand might be chaos,

the bright side:

it can be controlled.

As I move forward,

I reach behind,

mold the fouls with ease,

Play-Doh between my fingers,

their wisdom potent as a homemade explosive,

love and passion surround,

because I have so much love to give!




since you asked so nicely…

I’ll become a throwback,

of younger days,

cardiac strength renewed,

sending out a vibe of return,

giving in without giving up,

reversion to the best self,

present tense intense,

Oh yes!

this room isn’t big enough…

no room is,

for all of me.





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