Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Susan at her window


    She stopped paying attention
    To her responsibilities;
    Her thoughts wandered,
    Sitting by her window.
    Her coffee grew cold
    In the cup upon her desk.
    Her hand absently brushed
    The wrinkles in her neck
    Which he’d never acknowledged
    Nor perhaps even seen
    Being unequal to seeing
    Her as she was.  What was
    She, she often wondered while
    Fleeing the days when her beauty

    Drew men in a consequent flood?
    She needed to find a place to settle
    And grow old with just one
    Of them, someone strong enough
    To remain but mild to be with  –
    Someone she wouldn’t need
    To run from.  Her eyes caught

    The change in light – the rain
    Fell gently – drops slid down
    The glass.  She raised her cup
    And with her lips noticed the
    Coffee had cooled – leaning
    Back then smiling she heard
    Each drop calling the time.

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