A lazy hammock 
swaying to breeze
is where I 
imagine you are 
but knowing not 
that you are 
more likely buzzing 
about life like 
some little bee
bobbing and bouncing 
flower to flower 
nary a care
or a thought 
of a thing 
called a breeze 

First blip
then hurdle 
pebble stone 
and rock
so goes
the race 
called life 
once irritant 
becomes wound 
becomes worse
then is
when one 
finally stops 
to dig
find and
remove repair 
maybe replace 
maybe not 
carrying on
like nothing 
ever happened 

This before 
I do
the things 
I do
I wonder 
what if
I didn’t 
then who
would do 
the things 
I do 
the way
I do 
the things 
I do
maybe you 
is who
would do 

Doing things 
by myself 
choosing things 
for myself 
having things 
as myself 
brings joy 
and happiness 
a peace
that only 
ever comes 
when I
make me 
my priority 
a selfish 
self is
never a 
bad idea 

Oh busy
little bee
why must 
you bob 
about me 
rest here
so I 
might look
upon thee 
and see