The joy is gone now.

I don’t know if it will return.

Nothing has gone as I expected.

I am tired and beaten into submission.

I look forward to when he is eighteen.

I will pay his first and last month’s rent.

Then I will say goodbye.

Wherever I go, it will take a minimum of $50 to send me a postcard…

This is what I tell myself today.

This to shall pass.

Dennis Mantin