Unplugged Again
I'm wandering through my house
Looking at a flowerpot sitting in a pool of sunlight
The daffodil, fragile and happy, unaware of pain or loss
Serene in it's life, yet unaware of serenity

I wander over soft carpets , my cold and tired
Windy's left her jacket out, the cashmere is still warm
She doesn't see the things I do, innocent and pure
Peaceful in her life, yet unaware of her tranquility

I walk down the hall to my bedroom, fingers touching the wall
My husband Henry lies sleeping, strong arms folded over him
The dim light outlines his features, twisted in pain and triumph
He has won the prize, yet is unaware of his victory

With a sigh, I return to the kitchen, glancing at the TV
A blank-eyed newscaster spews bites of news at me
My eyes seek out my baby, Dana in her crib, so innocent
Pure in her gentle sleep, yet unaware of that purity

I wonder often if I am worthy of the friends I have
The things I do bother me, and yet they remain still
I feel empty, cold, angry, and still inside but still hard
I continue on in life, but am I missing something too?