by Richard Vince
It began and ended with coffee:
The first I made, the second
There were nerves, there were
Confessions, there were bad
Decisions; there were continuations
Where there should have been
When we believe our own
Mythology, we begin to
lose track of reality, choosing
Instead to inhabit worlds
We only imagine.
We ourselves become works
Of fiction, idealised, carefully
Crafted to fit
A two dimensional space.
What does not fit in the box
Is left the grow, unseen,
Unchecked, until its roots
Crack our foundations and
We are left in ruins.
It began and ended with coffee,
But the end was only
The beginning of the end;
The start of a collapse so slow
We didn’t see it happening.
Posted on 06/07/2018
Copyright © 2018 Richard Vince
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Dawn Davidson on 06/07/18 at 04:53 PM|
you are so right, a pleasure to read a real thinker, observer...a cup of the mud always thank you for the grand insights
|Posted by Glenn Currier on 06/09/18 at 03:09 PM|
That third stanza captured me - in more ways than one, Richard. You describe with such delightful poetry this coffee encounter. Thank you.
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/10/18 at 10:35 PM|
Profound literary rendering, Richard. Impressive capture of relationship.