Looking Inward

LOOKING INWARD

I looked into my heart
And saw a machine, soft,
Damaged, but still running.
The mechanic explained
He widened the narrowed
Lines that fuel me
By inflating tiny balloons.

The thought tickled
The youthful part of me
That collects cheap plastic
Wind-up toys, plays the kazoo,
And revels in romps
On living room floors
With my grandboys.

I thanked the mechanic
In Japanese, “Arigato,”
For giving me another chance
To play with them and extend
This 20-year romance
With my muse, who stood
By my side, always smiling
And never cried about the odds
She’d live out her life alone.