Afternoon, at home, by myself
by Heide McAlister-Bates
Imagine, if you will
the slow ascent up a flight of stairs,
wearied steps toward a mundane task.
Then, as you reach the pinnacle,
your eyes behold the sight
of a madly unmade bed,
and a room redolent with
the scent of this mornings
and the ghost-whispers of our
Would you smile?
Author's Note: I love Saturdays.
Posted on 12/18/2004
Copyright © 2020 Heide McAlister-Bates
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 01/02/05 at 03:22 PM|
i do believe i would. awesome poem.
|Posted by Rommel Cruz on 01/06/05 at 11:13 AM|
i definitely will
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 04/30/05 at 12:17 PM|
yes, most indubidably would I smile, knowing that something remarkably eventful had taken place in that bed. don't make it up now, Heide, some things are better left open as a wound to persist in the memory and not be in a rush to become a scab.