Another Edge to Sanity

Debris scattered faded wood
My life creeks a bit when windy  
Stones too heavy on the left side  
right side, too dependent
on dreams to be dependable
 It's all too difficult
in black stilletos
I prefer bare feet
 
Peaches crowd out apples
in winter leaving canning jars
half full
Weevils weave their dust through sacks of white rice, I see them
move with each bite.
Used up tea bags stains my walkway with ink blot images
that resemble you

Without, never intended
to create sorrow it was there to build strength
Lack doesn't predict livelihood
Less is always more
Inside these shattered walls  
despair has taken its exit
 
If the well water runs dry  
I shall dig deeper
Corrosion is not destruction
 when too few pennies turn  
a lovely shade of blue.  
This mind falls off  it's many
points of sanity  
Again I will grab hold
of sharp edges  
And make it to the top  
The Poverty of my Reality