Can’t call anyone broken down in tears.
They’ve watched me survive nearly fifty years.
For these fans, I weather without proxy;
These devotees of Comeback Kid Moxie.
These longest subscribers to my issues;
Are rarely at the ready with tissues.
Not apathetic, they love & aren’t crude.
They love fortitude: whose flip-side’s solitude.
I’ve been self-possesed since Sunday cartoons.
I’ll clear any hurdle’s what they assume.
Enough it happens, buried by choices;
I turn to kin’s validating voices.
They cheer I can do it; which, I did know.
Boomeranging me right back to my show.
They’ve no clue I want commiseration.
Ever encouraging animation.
More than enough love there & plenty wit.
All that I long for’s a little more get.
L.B.Stowe 