I’ve survived second world war
Cholera
breast cancer
a bolder falling
almost hitting me.
Now I’m trying to survive
a pandemic
it feels like recovery from surgery
long boring confining
my world has turned to grey
My calendar full of plans invalid
again my writing my breath
I find color and entertainment
in writing.
Just pop a cork
and poems flow from me
gush from me
tumbling like a frisky mountain stream.