There Must Be A Name For That
A mind well trained to reach for heart
reminders of gratitude and sweet relief
steeped in hope-enlivened acceptance.
Yet still endless dishes confound gratitude
joy dragged through laundry's soiled folds.
Clutter rings my ears raw while
muddy floors grate sand into the open wound that was
I long only to chase fluttering moments of spontaneous happiness!
Where are my robots, 2013?