HUNGRY FOR IT

 Can’t read
 Can’t write
 Can hardly speak
 Stay up at night
  
 Can’t cook
 Can’t drive
 I tend gardens
 Think I’ll survive
  
 Roosters crow
 I gather eggs
 Carry them in
 On rickety legs
  
 The sickly one
 Who is my wife
 Is ready to go
 Enough of life
  
 Days go by
 One by one
 Better hurry
 We’re nearly done
  
 Stanski
 November 17, 20l9 ^