The months of work, my project done, the big account at long last won, my wife resolved we'd have some fun, like she had dreamed. Before it even had begun, I kicked and screamed The last thing on my burdened mind was flying in a plane, confined; while tasks were getting more behind, I wouldn't rest. But though I madly fussed and whined, I acquiesced. Surprised, I did relax one day, engaged in monuments to play, concerns lost in a Greek soiree, I was reposed, the Eiffel replica's cafe was never closed. The firm endured without me there, my ego checked, I'm now aware that workaholics can repair their one-track lives. A foliage outing we'll prepare as Fall arrives.
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AuthorJack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana. Archives
February 2021
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