the room lay up three flights of stairs
the telephone three flights down again
and those below never climbed
when it rang
- which suited me just fine -
for in my simple life of luxury
- of foldout bed - I sipped my tea
from the finest china tea cup I have owned -
when the door closed behind me I was alone -
free to view from chimney height
the backs of houses opposite
and the higher clouds that drifted
above horizons out of view -
and there was no you -
to interrupt this life of what could be boiled
on a single ring -
and there was no you to interrupt
the blissful silence of reading
The Blue Book
No comments:
Post a Comment