Not the most cheerful letter…

My dear Lance, my handsome friend,
All news is good of you on the  mend.
I spoke this morning to Sean overseas,
right before he retired to catch some z’s.

My running’s been dragging, I have a flat arch.
Maybe you’ll have pointers when I visit in March
or maybe next month, we’re working it out.
But visit you I shall, of this have no doubt.

What else? What else? There isn’t much news.
We have a cat who pees in our shoes.

I had a great weekend, the best in a while.
It snowed enough to go sledding, which made me smile.
We used the hill at Shriners, it can’t be beat,
but now I admit, I’m pretty sore in my seat.
Remember when we were little, and didn’t weigh a thing?
Sledding was so easy, just push off and “zing!”

As for news of the world, I’ve fallen behind
but one or two things come to mind:
In England Tony Blair’s head is on the block
about their involvement with us in Iraq.
The Packers and Steelers are going to the Super Bowl,
I’m cheering the cheese-heads because Roethlisberger’s a troll.

Obama received a visit from China’s President Hu.
We chided him on human rights, to which he said, “pooh pooh.”
Well not exactly, but because they hold our debt,
anything that we can say is an empty threat.
There was a terrorist attack this morning in Moscow
but they don’t know who it was, nor why, nor how.
The body count so far has thirty people dead
and one hundred thirty injured, the New York Times said.
This is just so frustrating, can the War on Terror be won
if we lack the basic idea of where to aim the gun?

Ah, please excuse me while I get off my soap box.
Did you know that I’m wearing strawberries on my socks?
When I worked at Starbucks I would often rebel
with colorful socks (hardcore, can’t you tell?).
An abrupt subject change, but world news is sad,
and made none better with all the education we’ve had.

Now I must go, it’s my lunch time
and my disjointed thoughts are harder to rhyme.
I miss you, kid, like fauna misses flora,
your trusty friend,
Patricia Maura

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