Making Sense

Wearing toe shoes because
they make her feel graceful,
even though she cannot stand,
let alone walk or dance in them.

Pretending she has appointments,
important happenings in her
date book, when in reality her
days are void of any excitement.

Scribbling furiously in her
notebook, intent on making sense
of the empty days and lackluster
nights, praying for intervention.

Where is the muse who heads the
department of sensible thought?
She’s the one in comfortable shoes,
keeping time with the pendulum.

  
Peace, people!