Walking

Walking is good for anxiety. So, I walk.

Last night I walked 20 km. I just started, and I kept going.

Through the streets, across the park, sun breaking through. Down to the river, few people fishing. Said hello. Kept walking.

Through the woods, into town. Past the pubs, bands playing, or karaoke, people everywhere.

Three police getting Chinese takeaway. Karaoke on the corner.

Get home, I’m knackered. And still a fat bastard.

But hey ho, let’s go.