When the problems and the pressures
start piling up on me
When the laments and the laundry
get so high that I can’t see.
When the hungries and the hassles
invade my liberty
It’s then I must remember
that all I have is me.
A husband may pack up or die;
the kids will grow up soon;
but for my own survival
I always must make room.
My body and my mind
should be pampered faithfully,
because when all is said and done,
all I have is me.
Written by Rita Fidler Dorn
45 Magazine Poetry Journal 