There is only one
little smear
of morning sunlight
left on my kitchen floor.
I woke up too late
to enjoy a couple hours
of solitude.
He's already making
awake noises
so this will have to be
a quick poem.
Too bad I can't think
of anything
to write about.
No bloody emotions
lately. No kinky past-
times to secretly enjoy.
My days have been
unusually soft and tender
like a mound
of bread dough
we've been kneading
and kneading and, finally,
it can rest and rise. And I think
he's even fallen back to sleep.
11 comments:
I am glad he did. You got to finish the poem!
LOL...Sometimes blessings happen when we least expect them :)
I always enjoy that softness and tenderness in your poems
'a smear of sunlight' charactises
your work,no matter what the subject.
oops.. characterises
Love the commentary here!
Mmm, i love the quietness of this poem.
Isn't the kitchen an important place..I am glad the sun fell on you there and gave you time to write..if only there was a word to best describe not having an emotion..it seems like a feeling in and of itself..too important not to have a name..Jae
oh this so sweet.
I enjoyed your poem. :)
I just happened across your blog, Linda, while surfing this morning. This poem is so lovely! I truly enjoyed the read.
Great post, much appreciate the time you took to write this.
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