Watching My Feet… Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Keep changing my clothes in desperate attempt
to feel different, Seth says physical world changes
constantly, the only thing I see changing is layer
of dust covering my figurines, encircled by blue
material which covered our Christmas gift:

Large round metal container for bottles of wine,
we don't need it, maybe the kids will use it; I saw
a chandelier in the shop where it's sold - which I
would much rather have, but we are stuck with the
metal bucket, maybe grandkids can play in it

If I shall have some, given both kids vehemently
expostulates against idea of having descendants,
what with the present state of the weather, I
can't blame them - they still wonder why I wanted
to have them, I fondly reply because

I was lonely, needed support from someone totally
on my side, of that I'm completely assured - Tiaan
leading me as if I were a hundred, Nici telling me
what to wear, sighing when I go wrong - to return
to the beginning: I keep changing my attire

In order to feel the desire Abraham-Hicks says should
be mine, to feel the control that Seth says we all have,
but whatever I'm wearing, within fifteen minutes I must
change again - changing flip-flops helps - brown to
purple and pink - changing the look of my feet

Though it is bad for my neck to look down all the time
watching my feet…


[Sunday 2 December 2012]