Writers' Pantry #46 A cold, sunny morning in my world. I find myself feeling restricted, constricted, and conflicted. My father's words come to haunt me. Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United, November 29, 2020.
I want to escape this isolation
Take myself to some foreign nation
Where folks are frolicking bare-faced
I want to amble through a well stocked aisle
Of latest fashions where trinkets beguile
And my cash in hand is well-placed.
I want to take myself out for the night
To some spot of gastronomical delight
And perhaps a cocktail or two
But My father’s wisdom is giving me fits
I hear his voice saying “Wants are not gets”
And, dammit, I know it’s true.