Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Handy

There used to be more joy I think
In the fixing of things. 

Pride giving. 

A dangerous thing, pride, when en mass 
but
A “job well done”
Would be more than enough. 
“Look how it works, much better now”
Would send me over the moon. 

A helping hand would make me swoon. 

It all comes easily. After the years... A quick look, an “ah that must go there” a warmth when on the right track and the parts are coming together.

Better than new. That’s the goal.
Though going back and fixing mistakes...
That’s education too.

I don’t want to be this way. 

I want help. 
I want love. 

“I appreciate you”

I can’t fix that. I can’t make words happen or feelings occur. I can just hope in silence that the effort

...That I myself...

Will be noticed 
and maybe loved.

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