Early Afternoon

Heavy eyelids threaten to drop

As I turn off the faucet

And wipe the last plate dry.


The wet rag falls from my hand

A disheveled clump

In the middle of the kitchen sink.


I don’t bother to pick it up

And fold it into a neat rectangle

As I am wont to do.


I drag my feet towards an inviting sea

Of soft pillows and satin sheets

A private cabin fit for a queen.


As the ship sets sail,

A shrill sound abruptly beckons

And taunts.


Water rolls in deafening laughter

Inside a silver kettle

I had forgotten

And regretfully left there


Whistling me back to shore.



photo by Jose Paolo Prado


Published in: on January 4, 2011 at 9:22 am  Leave a Comment  

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