Couch

Sat on the couch this morning,
Legs curled up, head in one hand.
Glanced across
To the table at

Work waiting for me,
Thought about family I should call.
But felt a spectacular urge to do
Nothing. Resisted the impulse for

Half a minute. Then looked out the
Window to the shy garden
Beyond where it was easy to
See a neighbour mow his lawn

Composing parallel lines of
Domestic pride, his spectacles
Catching the early sun like
Flashing camera shutters.

Nearer, a bird abandoned a
Quivering branch that
Scratched against the glass
As first drops of rain fell

Upon my roof, an undersong of
Sadness, a subsong of peace.
Would I live my life once more (or twice)
Waste irreversible time

Make the same mistakes?
Yes, given a sliver
Of a chance
All over again.

8 comments

  1. to think a lot. on the other side of my mind, an emptiness embraces me. coming back is leaving a part of us by the way.

    Like

    1. Hmm… that’s an interesting thought. However, do you not gain other parts along the way? so that the result is an even better whole.

      Like

      1. the way is made by parts, and we build each one of them. and this is our greatest gain: we live to the end.

        Like

  2. So lovely. Peaceful.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. My pleasure. 🙂

        Like

  3. “Nearer, a bird abandoned a
    Quivering branch that
    Scratched against the glass
    As first drops of rain fell”

    That’s quite a picture you created here. Good one!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks, Sundaram, glad you enjoyed it.

      Liked by 1 person

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