What man, after all, needs to glance up from bed and find gauze curtains with crochet flowers blocking the morning light
When is there any right time to feel the frustration of taking to task offspring, not his own
Why, I ask, would he ask for the bounty of trouble, help, and honest beauty She brings to the table, when there’s plenty of “elseness” on his plate
Who’d wish for a real-live helpmate when the workshed walls are already perfectly papered with such willing hands
Where is there any avenue he’d daydream for a walk, anyway
Oh, love
Cascading stars
Not falling stars
Nor momentary shooting stars
Night fireflies
Not fly-by-nights
Nor echoes in the dead of night
Not half-attempts at anything
Nor abstract things
Just real things
Artist Credit: Tiger R.; at various ages
