I could write about a holiday,
Jetting off to a sunny beach with my dear Bailey.
But I should write about the life I live daily,
Tell you about the fight I had with my darling.
Not about facades that have become part of our living.
I could write about a getaway,
Sleeping and waking on soft pillows in a caravansary.
But I don’t think it fair to cloth my travails in secrecy.
To not tell you of the struggles of existing,
Or the fight Bailey and I had this morning.
I think I will write about my break to New York City,
Walking the Times square with no iota of worry.
For on second thoughts on my long tales of self-pity,
I think it fair that I don’t burden your evening.
That I just write about my fun retreat last season.
Image credit: FrankWinkler