Hung up on the lack, the steps incomplete, the drag of the struggle, the sting of defeat.
Recurrent worries wrinkle my brow.
I replay the when,
My mind opens up, my vision expands, I’ve oft done my best with two patient hands.
The first thing I see is the failing in me, coupled with dreams of who I’ll yet be.
*This month I’m participating in a writing prompt project, which you can find here- http://writealm.com/november-prompt-a-day/