Every day I’m getting a hang of being older. Other than paying bills and returning library books on time, any deadlines are self-imposed. Lucky me. May I not find out otherwise. Golden Days Wake up.  Play.  Eat.  Play.  Eat.  Play.  Sleep. Repeat.  -30- I’m participating in Fridays Writings   at Poets and Storytellers United . The prompt this week is small rituals and daily routines. 

The past few weeks I’ve been participating in Friday Writings  at  Poets and Storytellers United ,  who are a friendly group of creative writers. Taking part has reintroduced me to that writer long ago who wrote poetry and stories. Why did I feel like it was gone, no more, I was done? Haha, silly me.  This week’s prompt for Friday Writings  is a thinker. I thought I would pass but thinking about it is helping distract me from stressing out. Who would’ve thought? Here’s the prompt:  Be witness to these times we are living in and how it feels to be living in them. How does it affect you and/or how do you observe it affecting others? how does it affect me? today no different than forever smelling in the background, that aroma of fear, restless  eager and ready to be manipulated by the greedy.  how does it affect    me? these eyes haven’t changed these features only older this skin may be less darker still a potential target in those fearful minds brainwashed by the greedy. how does it aff

“Stay curious” is this week’s prompt for Friday Writing , hosted by Poets and Storytellers United . Molly the Pinky-nosed (Wilde) Cat was overtaken with so much curiosity, she fell asleep on the keyboard. Zzzz. As for me, the prompt led me to thinking about the “Who’s on First” comedy routine by Lou Abbott and Bud Costello (You can easily find it online, if you’re unfamiliar with it.) and eventually to letting a poem in the hay(na)ku format fall out of my brain.  stay curious. Who, said Bud, is on first. Who, asked Lou, is on first? Alternating Who. Who? Back and forth. Why?  asked Lou, distraught, desheveled, deflated. Why, said Bud, plays left field.  ©️Susan Echaore-McDavid For more Friday Writings , please head here .

This week’s prompt for Friday Writings  at Poets and Storytellers United  is to rewrite a discarded poem or slice of prose from long ago. So, I went digging into notebooks past and found a poem I wrote after the First Husband’s Spirit soared into the Universe 27 years ago. I give you first, my rewrite.  Lemon Drops and Jelly Beans yellow, red, purple, pink lemon drops, yellow jelly beans—red, purple, and pink— sealed in your glass jar sitting on your desk for how many months only the sun seeing it I see it now only clearing out your desk music in the background drowning my melancholy the imaginary rustle of your candy bag yellow, red, purple, pink  ©️Susan Echaore-McDavid Here’s the original piece. Lemon drops and Jelly Beans yellow, red, purple, pink how many months old sealed in your glass jar sitting on your desk only the sun seeing it me seeing it now only because I’m cleaning up Jennifer Warren of the early 80s singing out my melancholy and I hear someone out there with your voice