Poetry

I am not fond of Tuesdays. They are becoming my emotional nadir each and every week. I take Erik to therapy on Tuesdays, which goes wonderfully, but I crash and burn afterwards. I am not sure why. What is a girl to do? I crack myself up. Those of you who know me will not be surprised. I know a lot of you who are reading this blog are hurting, and I am so sorry. I am hurting, too, and would not wish this kind of pain upon anybody. However, please don't forget to laugh here and there. It gets easier with time. Here is something I wrote today to chase the blues.

Ode to Erik’s Binky
by Nancy P.

Oh wondrous pacifier, blue and round
Well known to us as “Binky”
Your rubb’ry plumpness stuck with hair
Each second much more stinky!

I see it’s true that you’re made
For just months one through three
As you’re bobbing in his face --
A rowboat lost at sea!

He does not care that long ago
We ceased our scrubbing you
Months ago we brushed you off
And said, “Now that will do.”

For ev’ry lintball, ev’ry germ
Is added flavoring
For beloved Binky you are made
For bedtime savoring!