Nothing Was Given To Us To Enjoy

I beg of you the favor, a few moments of your time for such a lovely poem. I have never re-blogged another’s work before, surely this one deserves the honor of being the first.

Elan Mudrow

Photo by Kathy Richter Photo by Kathy Richter

I knew nothing very well.

In praise of nada, I adorned

No jewelry, no tattoos, no makeup

Plain white socks and a t-shirt

The walls of my home,

Decorated in a tasteful

Sense of nothing.

My food, not spiced

Not salted, not peppered.

I read books about nothing special

You can find them at any nondescript market.

The garbage, picked up on Wednesday

Recycling on Tuesday, nothing changed.

At work, nobody bothered me

They spoke of children, parties

Movies, husbands, in laws, disgruntled neighbors

A whole load of nothing interesting

It could be said that

Nothing really bothered me

I was intrigued with nothing

Or was it that nothing was intrigued with me?

I wrote a memoir, it came out of the blue

From thin air. Where else would it come from?

I found out that

I have nothing in common

With thousands upon thousands


View original post 445 more words


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