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 