Disability blues.

 
 
The moon in June falls mainly on the Lune,
dance every day,
sing for the May.
 
Feeling a little down,
has gotten a new crown,
and every fall
the spring does call
and the fire burns the old wood.
 
Sing something simple,
an apple for a lark.
 
Of quarks and charm
and come to no harm,
the essential oil burner,
of time and Turner.
 
There is another world,
it is us..

 
~