“I’ve got a great ambition to die of exhaustion rather than boredom.”
I’m exhausted—damn tired—from keeping a pace that would leave Jeff Gordon in the dust. But I’m not bored. Far from it.
My list of to-do’s is a doozy. I know you’re there in the cage with me, singing with the other caged birds, dodging the black and white cat, trying to warble a song that people will remember. Will they walk away humming, or listen for a lovelier tune?
Many times, even I don’t like the song I’m singing.
I flutter my wings, take flight, and slam full-force into the wire, hoping to break through.
And fall to the ground.
To sleep…perchance to dream.
A new day.
To write…perchance to dream.