Poem: Dancing with Vesuvius

Flowers in Pompei_resize.JPG

Dancing with Vesuvius 

I need so little.
Someone to love.
God to pick up the pieces
as he inevitably will.

I break.
I mend.
I break again.
This is my life.
Some cracks show.
Others do not.

At times, all the pieces remain.
At times, some are unrecoverable.
And sixty-four years in,
I have become unrecognizable,
a mosaic of myself,
dancing with Vesuvius,
waiting for the archeologists and tourists
to decipher it all,
so often wrong but
always entertaining.

About this poem

It amazes me what people say about other people. And how wrong most of it is.

It is a wonder we even function.


PS: The picture was taken in Pompei, Italy.

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