The sky is falling!
Earthquake!

Help!

You stomp
Your beautiful
Feet,
You howl
At the moon,
You sob,
You cry,
You scream,
And
Yell.

“Woe is me…”

And
My
Personal
Favorite:

“You don’t understand!”

I soothe,
I cook,
I dance,
Sit quietly.

Say nothing.

Open a bottle,

Suggest a nap.
Perhaps a game of squash?
A night out alone?
Some soup,
Chili,
Bolognese,
A shrink,
Yoga?

Your response:
“You don’t understand!”

I get injured
In your war
My body left
On
The
Field.
Loss of limb.
Falsely accused.
Um, hello?
Anybody?
A little help?

Crickets.

But I’m no coward.
I’m Harold Russell!
Or was that
Harold Lloyd?
At least
I
Try to be.