Is it petty, I wonder…
The package of perpetual irritants
That I seem to continually lay down…
The litany of minor lamentations,
Unwrapped from tin foil
And set out on the blanket
Before you… again, again.
I wonder if it bothers you, asking
On occasion if it does – only
To lose your answer
Underneath the worry
That you might not know
Why my voice quivers so
Everytime I do.
So, I ask again,
And then…
Again, I worry
That I’m
Burdening you.
~ ~ ~
Before a rock, by a river, ‘neath a tree –
A picnic of my burdens,
You,
Me…
Singing, still,
That same old song
As time… rolls… on.
Christine Austin Cole
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rock-no-hiding-place/
