Celebrating little victories
Is my salvation.
If I waited
For grand, defining triumphs
I’d live my life in sadness.
I’d never know
The sweet reward
Of pushing past my pain
To make the bed anew
With fresh-washed sheets;
The quiet comfort
Of serving up a tasty meal,
Fixed with what I’ve found;
The simple joy of helping you
Make one more transfer
To and from your chair
Without a fall.
All these mean more to me
Than any praise or plaudits,
Any prize.
I’ll wear them as my ribbon bars.
©2011 John I. Blair
Poignancy and sincerity mark this poem and it marks my cheeks with tears. Thanx, MaryE
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