Keep changing my clothes in desperate attempt <br />to feel different, Seth says physical world changes <br />constantly, the only thing I see changing is layer <br />of dust covering my figurines, encircled by blue <br />material which covered our Christmas gift: <br /> <br />Large round metal container for bottles of wine, <br />we don't need it, maybe the kids will use it; I saw <br />a chandelier in the shop where it's sold - which I <br />would much rather have, but we are stuck with the <br />metal bucket, maybe grandkids can play in it <br /> <br />If I shall have some, given both kids vehemently <br />expostulates against idea of having descendants, <br />what with the present state of the weather, I <br />can't blame them - they still wonder why I wanted <br />to have them, I fondly reply because <br /> <br />I was lonely, needed support from someone totally <br />on my side, of that I'm completely assured - Tiaan <br />leading me as if I were a hundred, Nici telling me <br />what to wear, sighing when I go wrong - to return <br />to the beginning: I keep changing my attire <br /> <br />In order to feel the desire Abraham-Hicks says should <br />be mine, to feel the control that Seth says we all have, <br />but whatever I'm wearing, within fifteen minutes I must <br />change again - changing flip-flops helps - brown to <br />purple and pink - changing the look of my feet <br /> <br />Though it is bad for my neck to look down all the time <br />watching my feet… <br /> <br /> <br />[Sunday 2 December 2012]<br /><br />Margaret Alice Second<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/watching-my-feet/
