I was resistant.
Usual scenario, I, the usual suspect.
They are words,
I told myself...
syntax behind numbers
one, two, three.
I was feeling irritated over
the assignment of
daily blessings of thankfulness.
A triumvirate to poke, to remind me
not to feel so squashed down,
so sunk in, so over-puffed,
or so gobbled up.
By what? It was puzzling, a murky sea.
What do these sentences have to do with me?
These requirements, daily
will prod me to
look into my heart.
Don't make it too simple,
convenient, nor be
sarcastically smart.
Three sentences long, short.
In between them find wisdom
to make life worth its whiles.
I know its a new habit,
but try it on for its style.
Optimism.
Look at it beaming.
Copyright Tuesday December 11, 2012 All Rights Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells/ Meloo from her Tilt-a-World