Attempting to pacify
With Snuggies
And X-Crossed Oranges
Fluffer- Nutters and Apricot Jam
The heart of gold which glistens
Finds no one really listens.
What does it matter?
How shall it matter?
Does it matter?
While he is ready to fly out
To sunny vale
Over hill and dale
Her heart gently weeps
Longing for the day, the morn, when it is just a morn
With brilliant sunrise and no surprise
No mad dash off to school
And primping and pawing
Grimacing and yawing.
As she wipes her furrowed brow
And yells "Not now!'
Temples pounding.
She is reminded that there will come a day
When the walls are quiet
And the silent sound
Is deafening.
Conceivably she'll curl up in an
Ages -past snuggie.
And peel her orange
But before she pares
She'll look for the locus where "x" marks the spot
And find it no longer remains.
So alone in her kitchen
She'll take a scalpel and tenderly pierce the rind
Bringing healing to her pain.
I love this poem. It reminds me of myself sometimes. The quiet can be deafning at times also. Love your work, I always look forward to your blog. Thank you for the kind words.
ReplyDeleteLike the second stanza, the photo complements the prose really well, I can see it happening. Love the juxtaposition of healing and the sharpness of orange. Thank you for your comments
ReplyDeleteThis one was inspired by my son who asks me to cut x's on his oranges so he can peel them a bit easier...
ReplyDelete