Poem and Winter Chair

Ginger is in a duplicate of my chair.  She likes it, too.

I sat awake in my winter chair all night, unless I was pacing or going elsewhere...  for the second night this week, and it's only Tuesday.  I am going to be ultra careful of what I put in my stomach today.  I'll wait until something has been in there for at least an hour before I try something light and new.  And I'll nap.  Lots.

The thing I am struck with though, is that a number of lines came to me that were supposed to be written down in a poem.  They just suddenly showed up and flowed through my brain, but I had nowhere to write and nothing to write with, and I just didn't have the sense to hold onto it for long at all.  I had to just let it go.  But I know it was, well, I remember feeling like it was good at the time.  But it was somewhere between 2 am and 3:30 am I believe and my mind wasn't holding onto much.  I wish I'd been able to write it down to keep, but at the same time I am strangely happy that it at least came to me for a little while.

Ending this strange post today.  Needing a nap and some ginger.  Reversed order.

life started
frivolously heeled,
then grounded
became the norm.
Who walks on forest paths
in heels?
Who runs on beaches
drilling into sand?
Who climbs a mountain,
pushes a swing, jumps rope,
or wades in puddles
on tiptoes of patent leather?
Who sits any taller
curled in a beanbag
with goodnight story?
frivolously heeled
is for our tea party.

by Donna JT Smith

I used some of the thoughts I think I had and added to them.  Or I created this from scratch.  I really don't know.  Either way, I hope it makes you smile.  It is noon.  Naptime.  It is snowing.  Winter chair is waiting.