Towel... a poem by Veronica Farmer

No towel this morning
a facecloth only
I stare at it
The story comes...
"How on earth am I to dry myself with this?
Come on!
Which child. Stole. My towel?"
I smile to myself
and catch my eyes in the mirror

We resist life 
when it throws us the odd and unusual
we like certainty
the facecloth has the same drying ability
as the towel
it just requires more patience
and a sense of humour

So patience and humour
as I allow the Universe to walk me
instead of my mind walking a narrow path
Allowing life
is the portal
for a playful love and life to unfurl
and the day...


All Rights Reserved Veronica Farmer 2015
Also see www.veronicafarmer.org