in a big house,
alone.
At dawn the central heating moans
a high whine;
wood and plaster kick, knock
and heat turns up a winter wick.
Is it loneliness?
Not really.
Disconnected head and heart?
Possibly.
Disconnected?
At a café in Kendal
where I drink coffee
Andrew chooses another table,
sits down,
smiles at strangers;
waits to see what happens next.
He loves them, you see.
Mostly, people love him back;
particularly old ones, Sages.
He makes them feel special,
and an encounter
warms the place.
At night, he sleeps
like an angel.
I loved this line: "heat turns up a winter wick"
ReplyDeleteBut I also enjoyed the turn to coffee and Andrew and the implication about why you can't sleep.
Thanks Marcus - it helps that you followed the flow of the poem and stayed with its turns!
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful and very meaningful as for me when I can't sleep it is very much the 'disconnected head and heart'. Thank you for writing it.
ReplyDeleteThis is so wonderful, I love the details of the settings and the structure of the poem. Very nice!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful as ever. It made me smile and feel reflective all at once.
ReplyDeleteThis was very effective, specifically, getting the reader to bypass sight in order to sense something divine.
ReplyDelete