This old violin has lost
some of her strings
and like many an ACOA*
she’s filled to the brim
with lizards, and things
but mainly her stuffing is jello.
When I awoke in the night
and turned on the light
I prayed (to the Universe)
that today would be free
in its entirety
of fight.
*Adult Children of Alcoholics
A Tree Library
While continuing to try to continue organizing “my stuff” I came across a passel of earlier poems. I don’t know which have made their appearance in this blog and/or d’Verse, but I just felt like giving them a run-through again. One a Day takes the —what was it?—away. Since I love my Media Library, I think I’ll add a random pix, also. (This must be what happens when you start getting old.)
NANMYKEL.COM 
I met a woman when I was young who told me in my twenties that when I got older it would be so much worse. Those feelings of betrayal, sadness, what might have been, she was certainly filled to the brim. She did tell me I had some rough road ahead and she was right. Your poem is beautiful and honest and occasionally I still have days I feel like jello inside but most of the time I consider myself a warrior and a survivor who is making her mark the best way I know-how. Keep writing and sharing, thank you. Love J
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