Not my style

 

Of course, I could write of great things.  I could choose better when picking which books to read, and I could leave the television and social media on mute.  But here's the thing, I have a mainspring with only so much oomph left in it.  I can't really tell when it will run out, so these last few miles will be spent in comfortable shoes, well-worn blue jeans and I'll be appearing to require a haircut.  I will write the things that make me smile, goofy bits, that have been left along the side of the road. 

Some may not be worth bending over to pick up, but something about them apparently catches my attention.  A few ideas might be broken, and crusted with dirt, yet when viewed from across the street, they seem to play a visual tune.  I know that song.  I can't remember what it is called but I smile at the thought of it.

 

Writing anything else just wouldn’t be my style.