By Rose Lunn
dreaming, pretending,
9 a.m. slept late,
no dog whining,
no cat scratching at the door,
no husband dragging himself to work,
body refreshed, stretching without pain,
snuggling down, curling up to my husband,
Sleeping just a little bit more.
turning over, breath hitches,
my body, no longer able to dream,
the pain, radiating out from my Center,
Leaving no part out.
it’s 6:15 a.m., so early,
after going to bed at 1:30 a.m.,
dog whining at the door,
Cat scratching, bumping,
trying to open it,
I get up, so carefully,
letting him sleep as long
as he can, jealous,
I come out, suppressing a groan,
taking care of furbabies,
it’s a two cane day,
I, seemingly inch by inch,
move to the recliner, sit slowly,
bundle up, leaning my head back,
and dreaming, pretending,
Slept late.
Rose is a disabled and creative pain warrior.