Saturday, February 09, 2008

An Hour To Reflect




An Hour To Reflect

I read her Twain in a hot tub…
at least, I do until my glasses fog up.
She likes that, she says,
somehow it makes her feel good,
hearing the words from me.

She says he’d be proud,
hearing me read.

Light stuff, mostly; short stories,
essays, extracts from Adam’s diary… and Eve’s.
Corruption in Hadleyburg, monetary bequests,
conversations on that new-fangled telephone…
she snorts from time to time when I get it just right
and Sam shines across the page.

She says we’re kindred souls,
and I still don’t know whom she meant…
I guess I should have asked.

A sip of wine or coffee, depending on the time of day,
and birds repeating my words in the background,
I pause to reflect and watch her face from the side,
and wonder aloud… “Enough?”

“No, read me that poem again,
the one he wrote after his children died.”


She says post-mortem poetry is the sweetest of all,
and I finally understand why I love them both so much.

9 comments:

hfurness said...

Ah, your soul shines through on this one. Sing it again and shine on mystic diamond...

Anonymous said...

I agree with Harry on this one...beautiful!

Jo Janoski said...

It is beautiful, but is she your lover or your muse?

kaylee said...

The is lovely
soft and gentle.
One of your best.
It makes me happy and
sad at the same time.
klk

Anonymous said...

Very delicate touch and control of tone, there's a kind of grace in it, lovely,

paisley said...

bob,, that was beautiful.. i felt as if i was right there... i am still wiping the steam off my glasses... bravo!!!!!

Bubba said...

Thank you all very much for your thoughts. I think I'm now 1 for 26... It'll never get me to the majors, but it'll keep me going to the batting cage.

Jo, let's just say that it was inspired by a living human being and leave it at that.

Anonymous said...

Bob, I am really impressed with this one. Straight from the heart and beautifully written. I think there's a poet here after all...no matter how much thou doth protest.

Anonymous said...

That's a valentine.

There might be deeper layers, I donno, I'm a lazy poetry reader, but the surface situation, the bathtub, Samuel Clemens, the scenarios and the end are just like...

warming.

The reader feels privileged to get a glimpse into these moments.