Introspection On Toast
There once was a picture that wormed itself into my reverie
On a gray, cloudy morning, whilst it was raining and cold.
In this one picture were four slices of toast and five beverages.
Three glasses held tea the color of honey, and two were raspberry tinted.
Somehow it was important to me that the toast was suspended
In the air above the table by two glasses, like bookends.
For a moment I wondered who had achieved this strange feat, and why;
But then my thoughts turned to how my life was like that toast,
Suspended in air by forces counteracting gravity,
And any moment a passerby might jar the table, destroying the illusion
Of serenity and stability. I've seen people's lives change as quickly.
For the most part, everything seems to go well for them,
Then there is a turning point, after which nothing seems to be right.
Anything can trigger it; the loss of a child or job,
A spouse, or the home in which they have always lived.
Moreover, there is no reasoning to whom it happens;
Just like a careless passerby might bump a table,
And four slices of toast fall to the table, or the ground.
(Poem is written in Prose form)
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