A mug of hot tea,
A roll of Maryland,
Chocolate chip cookies,
And bad breath.
The bamboo lamp beside the sofa,
Sheds dull orange light across the carpet,
And I am not casting a shadow.
My shoes are not where I left them.
There is a dog howling in the distance,
And the sound reverberates,
Lifting the dew off the canopy of trees outside.
I seem to remember going down to the
And watching her fold steaming towels,
Fat haunches, corpulent bust,
And a very fine neck.
♦picture – webstockpro.com♦
evocative short poetry – words move