Reminiscence Of A Lost Love


She looks down,
in olive shadows.
Sweet tea steaming,
in cupped thin hands.

Old brown books,
unread and weeping.
The blink of the cat's eye,
she understands.

Light in the ceiling,
hangs down on a chain.
Bulb hums and pulses
in love and thought.

The clock creaks eleven.
Mashed pillows rest.
The rest of the tea cools
in cupped thin hands.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.