Parable Of The Sower

 And now my feet are swelling,

and there is a fearsome cough.

It feels like God is telling

me, son, time to get off.

I can see His point of view;

He's after all, divine,

but leaving ain't what I will do

for it is not my time.

There are things that are worthwhile

even if it's getting rough,

and as for going out in style,

for me that is not near enough

compensation for my going

when there are seeds left for sowing.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is SAY.

I think I shall choose not to go,

for I would really rather stay,

so what to do, hey, babe, I know,

let's go dancing, whaddaya say?

Let's go to the Grand Palais,

underneath the mirror ball,

'cause disco is the bestest way

to speak and understand it all,

to translate feeling into motion,

to show the style that never died,

to disabuse folks of the notion

that polyester shows no pride,

and as I strut across the floor

I am Travolta to core.

Four minutes! Ok, messed up the rhyme scheme, but in the Five Minute Friday spirit I shall let it stand.

Or dance!

My apologies to those whose comments have gone unanswered. They are appreciated, very much. It's just very hard to collect my thoughts to write.

Music from The New Radicals, with You Get What You Give

Sylvia says that if you get ice cream, you should give it to her.