Untouched
I sit with cappuccino and book
wondering how things are with you .
mind wandering,
eyes veiled with thought
fingers a’fidget ..
spoon tween my fingers
showing a strange view on life,
glinting in the soft light reversal of
how it is ..
spoon strokes the milk froth cloud
streaked with chocolate dust,
foil wrapped mint, waiting ..
I lower my lips then ..
tongue the sweetness long 'n lovingly ..
my book groans,
lonely 'tween its covers
title chosen in haste
like many of my indiscretions ..
minutes hiccup my alarm clock's face
dusty with laziness, glass
tinged by a once blushing rose
week cut from my garden -
proud 'pon its stem,
a thorn feels the final petal fall
to lie lonely on polished teak table,
where my diary lies,
unopened, untouched ..
like me.
Copyright © Emma Green | Year Posted 2017
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