top of page


It's individual.


        Still trying to make sense of everything,

        Trying to cope with you dying,

        Trying to cope with yesterday, today and tomorrow.       

         I thought I was doing well,

        I think about it all the time,

        Trying to find reason.

        It has been staring me in the face.

        I’ve been looking too far,

        Searching too hard for the answers.

        It has been there all along.

        It’s the pictures Booby.

        What pictures? You say,


        Lucille who?

        “Lucille Ball”

        They’re everywhere.

        In the bedroom,

        In the bathroom.

        In death you are still teaching,

        But I have to find my way alone.

        I have to learn how to be happy,

        How to smile

        And mostly how to laugh again.

        Not for others

        Just for myself.

        It is then the wound can begin to heal,

        It is only then I will be able to look in the mirror

        And smile.

        It’s as simple as that,


        Laughter from within,



        I will win.

bottom of page