View From A Sit-up
By John R. Greenwood
One more year
The cost of Christmas cookies comes to collect
In the pre-dawn hours
Winter’s cruelest month
I lie breath-full and wish-less
All summers hard work
Washed away in a sea of confection.
I wrote this on New Year's Day, the same day I vowed to lose ? lbs.
I must have put the truck in reverse?