Pick up a pen. Give it a try.
My vision is weak
Has been since I was a child
Everything fuzzy, blurry, wavy
Or like that white softball coming at me out of the white clouds
Just flat invisible, until suddenly it wasn’t
Like the curveballs life threw at me a few times
Until I finally figured out I could see things a lot more clearly
If I just stopped for a minute and closed my eyes
(OctPoWriMo 2019, Day 9; Prompt: seeing; Suggested style: free choice)
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Pick up a pen. Give it a try.
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Maybe I enjoyed your poem a little more because my eyes also are not so trustworthy. Here, I liked the humor, the acceptance, and the trust in your own ‘inner eye’. 🙂
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