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Poem

After a hard day's work,
these weary feet drag me home,
with the urge of pulling the cork
from the red wine chilling in the cooler;
and smell steaming pasta primavera into a large bowl...
before I am tempted by my gluttonery desire!
  

Simple pleasures like relaxing my elbows
on a comfortable leather sofa,
with legs stretched-out on soft cotton pillows
and watching a dramatic soap opera;
pop-corn, potato-chips and beer...
yes, for a toast to health, indeed!


I may start to yawn and fall asleep...
unless, through my open window, spiders will slowly creep;
and crawl onto my arms and face,
but one sneeze blows them away, and
trust me on this:  the others won't certainly play around,
when they hear the scheme of my surprise!   


And if ideas bubble up into my energetic brain,
more plentifull than memories they'll tap this imagination;
and with pen and pad I'll spend hours contemplating inspiration,
and shouldn't it come swiftly while I cool off by the oscillating fan,
the dreariness of an empty home can effect my solitary mood:
and more than a melancholic moon...I'll vainly brood!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

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