I exist in a state of underestimation.
In thinking & ability…even libation.
Always one bad choice from ending up in the E.R.
There’s no running or dancing & no driving a car.
Every meal is medicine; rarely welcome fun.
I even have to watch the temp; hiding from the sun.
I don’t mind the regimen that buttresses my health.
I don’t fret lack of agency; I prefer the stealth.
Yet I think, when all is well, that I would like a mate.
Someone to excite my heart & quietly relate.
L.B.Stowe 