TO SOME FUTURE
READER
12th.october.2014
Sitting in my kitchen
sun cuts thru my curtains
one table and two chairs,
listening to music,
drinking
my third cup of coffee,
these songs on my stereo
take me back
to England and Scotland
it’s a happy morning,
sipping coffee always
makes me pensive
looking across my table to
the empty chair
you should be sitting
there
with your future eyes,
your future pen and pencil
taking notes while you read
these words
but you’re not here yet
I wonder what you will be
like?
I kinda hope you will be a
pretty gal
short hair, tall, with black
rimmed glasses
full of passion and Dostoevsky,
Koch, Collins, and Spender
poets I’ve admired,
I can already see you
taking careful notes
asking all about meter
rhythm, themes in my
lifetime,
I imagine you leaving my
small apartment
in love with images,
skipping as rain begins to fall
dreaming of your own
works, raindrops at your face
reciting Hopkins, Merton,
and Dante
your worlds between heaven
and everyday simple things
for now I think I’ll have
a fourth cup
sit and write you a note,
pinning it to my soul
to guide you here
from somewhere in heaven
where you reside like all babies
waiting to take the place
of a flame burning out
tolling bells announcing births
and beginnings…
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