Over CoffeeA Poem by ConstanceJust scribbled thoughts.I hashed out the answers over coffee Letting them percolate silently, And the empty ashtray stayed clean But for one neglected white stub of ash- While the poorly installed ceiling fan Pitched and wobbled violently I watched the last roach scurry away
The answers... the coffee... too cold, Not fresh enough to be tepid, That foggy lukewarm Monday afternoon- Just I, the last pale, abandoned ash Pitching and wobbling with the stillness While memory's stench was fetid I watched the light dim, scurrying away
Yet, when night fell, my dreams awoke me...
© 2008 ConstanceReviews
|
Stats
172 Views
4 Reviews Added on July 26, 2008 AuthorConstanceA Small Town in, KSAboutI write about my past, my own real experiences. Even my poetry is inspired by my life. I was, I suppose, born writing, making up stories and rhymes from about when I started to speak, but had to wait .. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|