I need to do it alone.
This BS mantra I bemoan.
I often work myself to the bone.
Creating havoc with every hormone.
Thyroid, pineal, and progesterone.
Rapidly aging into a premature crone.
Solo I have travelled far and flown.
Until this year I had never known
that a woman middle aged, nearly full-grown
could receive support before exhaustion was full-blown.
In a past life I was the famous Joan.
Fighting hard I was prone.
This time around, I choose a different tone.
No longer my joy will I postpone.
My LIVING this time is not on loan.
The myth of ALONE I now dethrone.
This life is a gift.
One that I will own.
Share it of course.
Even over the phone.
Ducit Amore 