Outlook

Outlook

Outlook

I count my blessings
Even crosses I convert until everyone,
Despite the evidence
Thinks me lucky,
And some would say
Spoilt.
It’s a talent I was born with
My face prefers to smile
My eyes to shine
And my language strains towards laughter
Even my tears have a merriment
And my sadness a lightness
Not unlike a dance.
Am I lucky or
Alive.


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