I write poetry in my head, but it dissipates as my mind churns with thoughts of my mom, and life in general. Each day brings more health issues, and more poems that never make it to pen and paper, or fingers to keyboard. I'm wondering if I'll get to take her home, and how much I seem to be aging along with her. Poetry in motion, heading in the opposite direction, to places that jumble in my head. Some day, these thoughts will make it to paper, but not today.