Broken bands of sunlight
creep through the blinds
laying stripes on my back
like a zebra.

I am a forgotten man-
yesterday's man,
one hand in my pocket
and the other behind my head.

In my somnolence
I have drifted-
drifted in waves of linen.
There is no weather rough-
only swells of respite and pardon
from what I am-
from where I am.

An hour?
Two? Four?
It doesn't matter
because from where I am
I can not be stolen.

05/06/2011

Posted on 05/06/2011
Copyright © 2025 Gregory R Schelske