Simple GiftsA Poem by Joel M Frye
The rumbling cat circles the chair,
wondering what wakes me at this hour. A reassuring stroke or two between lines, and she puddles beside in tail-wrapped satisfaction. Heir to a hundred insignificant sufferings which scurry and gnaw at the underpinnings of sleep, half-awake and fumbling for gratitude, I choose enough small misery to write. Don't scare up ambition to rhyme or scan, or make myself look good, or put lipstick on the false smile of swinish apathy wallowing muddily. Cold, clammy soil suits and soothes my mood. There is a hunger howling in hours dark with early morning for a gentle scratch behind my ears, a soft hand welcoming my nuzzle; a nesting ground of warm worn cloth smelling of home and family where I can pad its perimeter, curl into myself and sleep. © 2013 Joel M FryeReviews
|
Stats
172 Views
1 Review Shelved in 1 Library
Added on March 27, 2013Last Updated on March 27, 2013 AuthorJoel M FryeSt Petersburg, FLAbouthttp://k002.kiwi6.com/hotlink/3w6q0yrymv/01_Ballad_to_Ben.mp3 http://k002.kiwi6.com/hotlink/jhjs7gw3cz/02_What_Do_I_Say.mp3 http://k002.kiwi6.com/hotlink/652qs6u270/03_Lady_Chasing_Rainbows.mp3 htt.. more..Writing
|