Minor misgivings

I’ve come back from the hang over, and I’m hanging onto all that’s dear in my life.

My carnations on the dining table, some of them hang their heads, in sympathy.

I sit in Arthur’s cafe with the little red Lisbon tram on the coffee machine.

The intellectuals pollenate books with ideas, while I look for a soul mate, and radios sing in the trees.

There’s tulips outside like great big jars of honey, and the sunny smiles of the younger generation.

Fear is not a good counselor when it comes to cancer, said my friend.

We are all reflections of Heaven’s Hall of Mirrors, and life happens to all of us.

Striped pyjamas and shaved heads of the chemotherapy chamber.

Throw us some hope and tie this Lady down,

my beautiful cousin, tossing wildly in the cancer diagnosis.