
Attempt
I sit here on a Saturday
The holiest day of all the days
But it’s just too hot to go outside
I sit under the fan
Moving top speed
Just like my life used to do
–
Now I just sit here
With the dachshund tucked beside me
She never frets about anything much
Other than if she’ll be lucky and get
Three meals today
Instead of her benevolent two
–
I allow the quiet to envelop me
Just the sounds of the air rushing by
I could sit and enjoy or I could let out a sigh
Or I could mold here and seep in some anger
The latter seems so devoid of anything beautiful
I’d rather just sit and be bored
I’ve given up on the things that bring meaning to life
A new home, a new job, a new Ford
These just bring more complex chaos to me
I’d rather go for a walk with the trees
I’d rather go for a talk with the birds leading the way
I’d rather sit in the grass on my knees
I could write a great poem
I could write it for you
Or I could simply write the love lyrics for me
I could bury the paper in a small bottled glass
And hope the seekers will seek on a spree
I hope they find the weaved message and label me star
Of course I’ll be long gone, a black hole that’s dead
They could just simply laugh, then toss and discard
To seek glory and glamour instead
–
I sat down right here to be next to the dog
She whines when she’s here all alone
I write this to take the place of my whine
Simply glad that my heart is not stone
–
Thus might be my great, grand attempt
–
8/15/20 kdc
A gorgeous meditation on an eternal question. As you say, that particularly male trait of anger, seeking imperfections, and rejection (which I know too well) is not the way, rather have your “love lyrics” in the heart. Always a pleasure to get lost in your work.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much, Steve. Glad you enjoyed it 🙂 🙂 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person