The Closet

The closet is my refuge a place where I escape from all of life's intrusions to give my thoughts some shape. To do what I came in for it's needful to let go, forget whatever's pressing, all bothers that I know. As this may take some doing, I close my eyes to see what's going on inside me, obstruction of debris! My eyes once more now open, I'd like to see the view, but frosted glass prevents this vista from the loo. To add to my frustration, I hear the ruddy phone in my pocket ringing with its persistent tone. Although I do not answer, I wonder who might be wanting me this morning, supposing that I'm free. It feels like absolution as I'm relieved of trash, discharged of so much refuse with just a gentle splash. “Be out in forty seconds,” my father used to call. “Use both sides of the paper.” – in those days crisp and small! So much for my reflections while I was all alone. The time for my emergence I can no more postpone.