I wish I could pick my teeth…

I wish I could pick my teeth…
Just sit on the front porch and pick and grin…
After all I am from Tennessee…
And familiar with the hollers.

Hum a wistful tune like “Molly Malone…”
Let bygones be bygones…
Look at the smokies and count my successes…
Because successes seem to fly away and be gone…
While the failures stick around.

I’d watch the snow-flowers make their way down the mountains…
Trailing long wiggly tails…
All bound with an incredible oath…
To return again come fall.

I’d ponder how the greatest wisdom is childish…
And how it doesn’t seem fair that as we grow older it melts away…
How sometimes life seems to be one dark comedy…
Yet in darkness, I most have a soul.

Yep, just sitting there picking…
With the hope of you sitting and picking too…
But it seems now that we are all too “busy” for picking…
“Busy,” being such a deplorable word.

Make time to ponder!

I miss you (and love you too).

Annie