Rock (No Hiding Place) Poem by Christine Austin Cole

Is it petty, I wonder…

The package of perpetual irritants
That I seem to continually lay down…
The litany of minor lamentations,
Unwrapped from tin foil
And set out on the blanket
Before you… again, again.
I wonder if it bothers you, asking
On occasion if it does – only
To lose your answer
Underneath the worry
That you might not know
Why my voice quivers so
Everytime I do.

So, I ask again,
And then…

Again, I worry
That I’m

Burdening you.

~ ~ ~

Before a rock, by a river, ‘neath a tree –
A picnic of my burdens,

You,

Me…

Singing, still,
That same old song

As time… rolls… on.