Greetings, everyone! It's been a nice quiet simple weekend at home, with a few things done that really needed to be done. First and foremost: the Fat Kid's wife signed them up to do a ride - not terribly long, 15 miles round trip on flat paved trails. Today, I managed to get her bike fully up and running, new saddle and everything else included. We also managed to get her a helmet finally, so she's officially ready to ride!!! Now, this is not to say that she's going to stay with it enough to race or anything, but hey, one thing that you can share with your significant other is always when good, and when one partner willingly takes on something because the other likes the activity, then life is very good. This is the stuff we should celebrate about one another. And, it leads me to today's poem - kinda neat how life does that, yes?
Junk
Nothing compares to the junk drawer,
overflowing, barely opening, closing only by force,
afraid of looking in there, lest it explode,
everyone's junk in plain sight.
So organized, everything in its rightful place,
labeled, set just so -
you can see everything in the cabinet,
but the drawer remains a mystery.
No one wants to claim the responsibility of cleaning it,
to him it matters not,
to her, it matters, but she's too tired to do it anymore.
Until the junk mail comes on Tuesday,
she goes to put it in the drawer, with the rest of the junk, the mess, the hassle, the odds and ends of life,
and she finds that the drawer has been cleaned,
A simple note reminding her of pure and simple love,
his sacrifice never mentioned.
Thanks for reading.
The Fat Kid
1 comment:
Nicely done, here. This poem contains longer lines than many of your poems do, which gives the poem a, well, more prose feel. Not a bad thing, mind you, but markedly different than many of your recent endeavors. Since it IS more prose-y, it feels like it reads more straightforward, with a definite element of narrative. Still, simple and sweet.
Post a Comment