Sometimes you coax me forward and I dance
bright-eyed and busy-tailed
leaping and curious.
Other times you drag me,
kicking and screaming.
You’re the spice that flavors a new meal,
pungent, sizzling.
You’re the hooded spectre,
harbinger of loss.
A shapeshifter, a volatile stock.
I need you, yet I hate you so,
those sudden appearances when I haven’t had time
to vacuum and set the table,
showing up, so blasé, at my door.
You never did have any manners.
[scs_alt]
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