And so, health.

And the discussion with mum’s friend,

Who has survived beyond her,

Turns to the evolution of mattresses,

Goose down,

Luxurious but bad for your back,

Foam,

Sometimes current but initially,

Uncomfortable,

Has silver hair that frames,

Her ice blue eyes perfectly,

And deep wrinkles around her mouth,

Lighting every room she is in,

Ripe fruit can be determined by the smell of it.

A mango,

At the right time,

Will flood a kitchen with aromas that colour,

An entire home,

Disperse into cupboards and,

Dispense across living room sofas,

They can make you forget what you are doing as you,

Iron sheets,

Raising smiles in every nook and cranny…

If we live long enough,

We will die with a pocket full of medals.

Out walking this morning,

Healthy and feeling good,

I remembered my sister and her fight with Ovarian,

The frustration she expressed,

Not with the pain,

The body that would not allow her,

To spend time her own time.

Out walking I was thought,

A million dollars can change everything.

I feel now finally,

I can be happy with health.

So.

Health.

♦picture – Eartha Kitt, Wikipedia♦

evocative short poetry – words move