Growing my finger to upset the bathroom light,
I notice a strand of hair, gone missing on the floor.
There's something about the lighting in here which always reminds me, I'm thinning.
And, I'm worried.
I tilt my head to get a better look at my arm,
Examining a section of skin I can't readily see.
There's something about the rash there which always reminds me, I'm human.
And, I'm disappointed.
I sit, listening to a beautiful song,
Thinking how talented the musicians must be.
There's something about the melody which instantly reminds me of nothing I could do.
And, I'm frustrated.
I stare at a blank screen with its flickering gesture,
Wishing the right words to partake on their own.
There's something about this empty page which always reminds me, of preparation.
And, I'm losing.
