Lost Childhood

that thread,
that sparkle,
that vestige
of my youth

I try to hold on,
gnarly grip
no match for
her exuberance

Hope we reunite
next time around.

(Image from personal collection)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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