Is breathing Is sitting and reading Is working for money Is loving a person you’ve got time for Is holding a child, Pushing them on the swings Is bleaching the toilet Is being in the supermarket, Finding they’ve discontinued Another brand Is having a talk that’s Becoming a row Is lying in the bath and having A drink among the warm bubbles Is laughing With a lump in the throat Is doing all sorts of things is nothing But you know They all count. Kate ©
an old, old poem (i think i might have been 17 when i wrote this) about feeling as if you have to justify every little thing you do because it isn’t productive or going to get you to an end goal.
Poetic Insights
For those who are curious