What Is

By Mary E. Adair

There comes a moment most every day
When thoughts of you still come my way
And I wonder just what you'd have to say
About what's what

I take myself seriously but muddle along
And these days I rarely sing a song
And I miss your 'ping' to my every 'pong'
About What's not

I know that it's foolish, silly of me
But I still shed tears others don't see
And I ponder upon my ability
And what's shot

If you were here you'd give me praise
You'd help me struggle through the days
You'd fix what's supposed to stay cold
And what's hot

You would give my cheek a gentle touch
You would give advice on such and such
You would say if I drink too much
And what's sot

©2011 Mary E. Adair