My spirit lies on the floor,
totally lethargic.
“What’s the point it?”
“Was there ever one to begin with?”
“Let me wallow a while.”
“There’s plenty of time.”
“There’s always tomorrow.”
“Then again tomorrows are all the same.”
“Why bother?”
I step back to gain a wider perspective.
Wait a minute I don’t have to stay here!

I can leave that self-pitying sod where he lies!
If that is my spirit why bother with him?
What a nerve he has calling himself “spirit”
In the first place!
There may be times of plenty but there is
never plenty of time!
Every day is precious and different,
no two can be alike.
Life is variety, spice is something
you have to add.