Got no time to kill –
I’m at a stand still.
Nothing in my head.
I want to go to bed.

Rising early is the plan.
Exercise waits for me to stand.
Separation anxiety here abounds –
Will we swap in taking rounds?

Friday is already here –
January is about to take a rear.
Five pounds have said goodbye.
Two more weeks and I’ll say “Hi!”.

Time to log off for the night –
Only sleep right now feels right.
My husband sits just feet away.
But neither can he stay.

This poem is entitled, “Ramble”.
I like my yummy eggs scrambled.
I’m getting quite desperate here.
Searching for words, my dear.


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