[Image from Pinterest]
[Inspired by Herbie Hancock’s “Speak Like a Child”:]
Coffee in hand,
just black with milk – nothing grand.
A mug, a chip to rim,
morning sustenance (how she kept so thin).
Play of light on leaf,
dancing rays of sun on potted herbs. Leave
she should, go to work and earn.
How she’d like to sleep, take her turn
on that thing called ‘holiday’.
Keys the mug replace: not today
that step into vacation. No,
she’d prefer it anyway when season was of snow.
Feet to pavement, shoes
needing new heels. Still, she moves
like an animal in apt habitat:
others, the mice, scurry from this cat.
For she’s feline, somehow, despite
her cares. They don’t know that her bite
ends in a simple stare, and words.
Words that leave their mark. If the world
could be bettered by oration,
she’d be the woman, their lark. She’d get that vacation.
[Copyright © N R Nolan 2016]