Marilyn Odeon

It is not yet noon
And indeed it cannot come too soon
For already I'm at my wits end
Trying to figure myself out of this bend
...

Especially in the best of seasons
When, in spite of all adverse reasons
My subconscious brings to the fore
How I couldn't possibly ask for more
...

Life's enigma, I wonder what it's all about
Meaninglessly we expend evanescent days, in and out
Mortgaged to drudgery, in the name of duty
Slaves to denial, in the interest of propriety
...

She walked along a windy road
That so many before her trod
The Lord saw fit to bless her rich
With father, mother and sibling each
...

There are these sweet little pests
I wish they could be described as guests
Though they come, not at my behest
And I'm certain, not always in my interest.
...

It's coming, its started, it has begun
Transformation, alteration, I feel reborn
In me a stretching here, a tearing there...
But not the kind that brings wear and tear
...

What is this thing, I do not know
But if you also feel it, pray tell me so
It makes mush of all my reason
My yearn for it, unending in its season
...