I know people
Not so many
But a few.
Some of them
They spend their days
Doing work
That stretches nothing but
Their patience
And their skill at making
Light of pain.
Or reading
Watching movies
Feet up
Hours and hours of tv shows
Eating dinner
Supermarket cakes and snacks
Chatting with their damaged cats
Talking rubbish
Drinking plonk and bottled beer
With friends
Like me.
Even those
Who do not do
These awesome things
I cannot say
They waste their lives.
That’s a charge I save and treasure
For petty hate and righteous bile
And calculated
Snide remarkers.
