She told me I could lose weight
It was working nights that was my fate.
The face stuffing was no cure to loneliness
And she was right.
Habits of the midnight breakfast
Wandering to the fridge then
Grab a slice of cheese or two
and on to a cupboard few.
And so the story goes,
With each rise in my woes
I ate or drank to be merry
But alas the saddened thoughts do tary.
I vow now to sleep a little
and when rising will not fiddle
With the gaping steel mouthed refrigerator
Or the blank faced cupboard doors.
No, I will walk to the living room
That breathes and seats
and converses with others
Who in it do meet.
I will talk while I write
And this will right the walk
To a slimmer me
And my trimmer self.
Purple Pennies 