Chocolate for breakfast...
I could do this for a year or two.
The fellow next door is making espresso,
And someone downstairs plays a Chopin tune...
I think it's called "Wisteria."
I'm quiet and subdued,
But in a peaceful, pleasant way;
Just one of those mornings when nothing matters.
I think pretty soon--maybe today--
I'll write him a letter. But it can wait.
I smell Lily of the Valley
--that was always Mama's favorite--
Wafting on the gentle morning air...
The espresso man hums "Liebestraume"--I wish I could play it;
One of the years, I'l get there.
May late summer never leave!
I wish time would just stand still:
Nothing would ever matter again...
The flowers could stay on the window sill...
And I wouldn't be coming home--I never will.
Life is okay here, and so am I;
I've gotten used to the taste of coffee.
Don't think I miss the old life, or histeria:
This morning it's a chocolate breakfast, and the
Pianist playing "Wisteria."
2007-09-30
09:28:03
·
5 answers
·
asked by
Anonymous
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry
I wanted to correct a mistake I made in one of the lines in the third stanza:
"One of these years, I'll get there."
Sorry.
2007-09-30
11:09:40 ·
update #1