On the veranda, shadows
dim blue, sage brush
scratches my skin; different
patterns collide today,
everything’s out of alignment
This coffee table wears weeping
rings from last night; I pour a
cup of coffee, its aroma satisfies
A young couple on the
street laugh and kiss;
they remind me of clean, crisp sheets
hanging on the clothesline, caressed
by wind and sun
I wonder if they’ll recall
this moment in ten years …
I remember lying on the bed while
you read to me, voice redolent,
soothing blueberries dipped in cream;
that book is nestled in a cubbyhole,
out of reach
My neighbour opens her windows
for a siesta, a routine for the past
ten years since her husband died
I succumb to routines and continue;
tomorrow’s roosters will crow at dawn
wordsandthoughtspjs 
Love this, Pamela. Your poems about where you live always make me want to say “Write more!”.
Thanks Margo. I have been free writing in my journal, not to any prompts. It feels rather liberating.
It is liberating. Keep doing it!
Lovely, Pamela! I really like the weeping rings on the coffee table. So many images here that are very recognizable to me, and yet so particular.
Thanks Marilyn. I am trying to get back to more writing about what surrounds me. At times I tend to obscure reality.
smiles…wonderful capture of life…i like the couple and your question of them remembering it…the stained tablecloth is a nice touch as well…and tomorrow comes…
Thanks Brian. There is no tablecloth there, but now you have me thinking … 🙂
I loved this in so many ways–a great slice of life and wonderful writing!
Thanks Audrey. The small things in life are so very important, aren’t they?
To echo other comments here, the coffee rings weeping, the memories, the sights from the window and the wonder of who will remember what, and then the inevitability of it all at the end. Really enjoyed this.
So glad you see that, olo. Thanks for the nice comment.
So many reflections on life here. Yes who knows what small details will be remembered in ten years. The book in the cubby hole out of reach. The coffee table with rings. Such good stuff of life stuff that adds to your poem.
Mary, I often think about that when I see people so loving. I know it may sound strange, but I remember everything and there are times I don’t want to.
The weeping coffee stains remind me of how I nag my ten not to put hot, wet bottoms of cups on wood that doesn’t have a coaster on it. The woman opening the window for her nap made me smile too. We are mostly creatures of habit, aren’t we.
A lovely read Pamela.
We are that, Bren. Thanks.
I succumb to routines and continue;
tomorrow’s roosters will crow at dawn
There’ll come a time when we feel it’ll all be the same day in day out. But variety of happenings can take simple forms. I once asked a tai-chi exponent who takes to the exercise everyday – at the same place and at the same time at the park To him everyday is different despite being there all the time. Why? The crowd is different,the weather is different even your own constitution for the day is different. It’s not the same. Now I know why he’s not bored doing the same routine of exercises, as to him each day is different. Nice write Pam!
Hank
Every day is a new adventure, Hank. Thank you.
A lovely capture… I especially like the second and third stanza. Congrats on your good news!
Thank you, Laurie. I am kind of amazed by it myself.
“I remember lying on the bed while
you read to me, voice redolent,
soothing blueberries dipped in cream;
that book is nestled in a cubbyhole,
out of reach”
Stunning. It’s like I was really there.
I used to be there as well, but alas the magic does dwindle with time. If we are left with a strong bond, that is a plus. I am fortunate to say I am. My husband is my best friend.
A lovely reflective series of memories with the comfort of routine gestures.
Thanks Viv. Routines are not so bad, are they?
very good! Enjoyed this all the way through…and again.
Wow! Thanks for the wonderful comment.
great capture of these small moments that just happen and the thoughts that come with it, the memories and pondering…much enjoyed this
Thanks Claudia. Oh, so many memories …
Blueberries and cream in bed sound good to me.
This is one of my favorite poems this week!! I really like how you jumped in your thoughts, then brought it all back so beautifully, making me see those places are all part of a whole, mysterious and captivating.
Will I remember this moment in 10 years?? I hope so!!
Beautiful poem.
Janine, life is mysterious and captivating, isn’t it? Thanks for the lovely comment.
What a beautiful poem!
I stopped by because we both got shout-outs from Hank’s interview, so I clicked through. 🙂
Hi Madeleine, thanks for stopping by to read.
Tomorrow’s roosters may crow at dawn, but in my experience they seem to also cockadoddledo just about any time they feel like it — middle of the day, many hours before dawn, you name it. And the chickens always come home to roost!
How many rings on that table? Another Olympics aftermath?!?
Thanks for the read.
Charles, here it is generally in the early hours I hear them most prevalent. My neighbours own several. The Olympics aftermath??? You kind of lost me there, but thanks for reading.
This is a lovely poem – it’s not clear what’s happened to the voice = but the inexorable qualities of time are beautifully clear. Wonderfully simple and complex at once. k.
k. I am not entirely sure what happened to her either. Thanks for the nice comment.
Love this slice of life 🙂
Thanks Ayala 🙂
`coffee table wears weeping rings from last night’ – I love that image.
Sometimes every day seems like every other but not if you read between the lines and here you have managed to do just that.