When left to my own devices, what would I do?
Roam the hills, weave up wild flowers, and bring them to you?
If given time, to find my thoughts, what would I say?
Love is like a blossom, tender in May.
If I could sit some place peaceful, in a chair, where would it be?
At the bedside, of my son (although he is 23.)
If I could perform a menial task, what would I choose?
I’d weave the tail of a horse, or flip a pancake, or two.