Well, speaking of a journal
Listing of thought for the eternal,
Two thousand five sure was a mess,
Dear journal I confess.
First of all we had to eat,
Fast food was no longer a treat.
Tightened our belt,
Mom is the cook and not so svelte.
Fighting the scare of economic jerk
When store pulled the rug on one family's work.
It wasn't so bad, gave that Mom a chance for kiddo's
Making acquaintance with them through their childish throes.
Another Medical emergency hung over us like a dark cloud
We kneeled, prayed long and loud,
Struggled and fought to fill in for the inept,
Using love's guidance and were allowed the kept.
We share each moment we can,
Hold 92 year old Mom's death back with our hand,
Do not weep over the inevitable,
Just enjoy the day with her, stay level.
Don't think, don't mourn, don't weep,
Stay centered, that she can still step of her unsteady feet.
Stood beside extended family, against the unjust
Ripping off children in their lust,
Leaving that family damaged and in debt,
Uncomplaining, conquering still, through loves jet.
To fight on our own ground the war,
That is stronger than foreign soil's boar.
Just so you know we record and remember,
Go your way, 2005, November and soon December
We won't miss you at all,
It is your miserable fall,
That soon will be past and gone away,
Your history and what you did,
Is recorded and finished beneath a greater lid.
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