Five things at which I'm good; You're asking me
To raise my self-esteem, to fly a flag
That speaks of five skills that could claim to be
The sum of my accomplishment, the bag
In which my goods, being tied up firmly
Can be cast in the balance that will weigh
Against hydra-headed infirmity,
That stands on stilts to be all they will say
I am, in days where moral deficit
Is all there is to see from where I sit.
I think, speaking of sitting pretty and speaking my need to list the things I am 'good at', reminds me of Jack Horner. Remember him:
Little Jack Horner
Sat in the corner,
Eating his Christmas pie;
He put in his thumb,
And pulled out a plum,
And said, "What a good boy am I!"
We maybe we all need some skills, if it only having a sweet end on the thumb of your own self-selecting smugness. I think Christmas is probably summed up by this tendency, whilst The Man of Sorrows weeps.
With love and hope nevertheless
Steven xxxxxxxxxxx
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