Today
fell
into paperback fiction, bled
into bundles of black ink sheets
each smudged moment
mutely becoming my shamed history.
Once
I might have wished
to re-read the book in reverse;
to sweep today's waste
into my hands, re-absorb
those hours and minutes:
recycle them to better use. Once
I would have felt remorse
but today I shrug,
say I enjoyed the read
and brew a cup
of Earl Grey.
Such improvidence on my part:
in prime my feet
paced trusty ground.
Now I stand small at the base
of a vast hourglass whose sand sifts
over my face
to smother my sagging flesh.
.
©Jane Paterson Basil
Making it write 
Where have you been, Jane? Good to see you here again.
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Thank you Judy. My life was in turmoil when I began blogging, and I guess the poetry was an outlet for my angst. And the blogging community offered the kind of friendship which helped restore me to a recognisable kind of sanity. But it’s hard to write when I’m balanced. Occasionally I feel inspired – or I fall off my log – and that’s fine, because then, I write. But I never intended to lose touch with you all.,
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You are younger and have a busy life, I’m sure. The thing that has kept me writing is the prompt words which mean I don’t have to think about what subject to write on! It’s just fun to puzzle them together. How is your son?
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I’m sorry Judith; I fell off the earth again. after a nightmare period with him he is doing really well and seems to be i recovery. One day at a time…
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Fingers crossed
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