I try to sleep, jealous

of those who can speak eloquently.

I stutter my prose, frozen by my fears

Of relevence.

I can not sing.

I wash my hands in the bathroom sink, to get rid of the smell of the day and dirt

Before I lay beside my wife,

My cat is shovelling through the blankets,

Desperate for the warmth we share.

In these final hours,

before tonight becomes yesterday,

I know that I can not sing.

And I realize, that I really do not care.


About ponderingmoon

Educational Support Worker in Salmon Arm, writer, martial artist, and more importantly Father and Husband. View all posts by ponderingmoon

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