as the clouds blot out the sky
darkness spreads through the drapes
and into my living room,
casting me in shadow
and the wish that
the sun would stop shining
and darkness would expand,
until there is no difference,
between night and day,
between day and night,
and this moment would last.
saturday
Saturday Morning Breakfast
poetryelaborate preparations,
ritual like gone through,
all for the purpose
of delaying the inevitable,
perpetuating the magic,
that is a Saturday Morning
lest it disappear into the mourning
of work saved up all week long.
haiku
poetrySaturday was an ocean
which I tried to circumvent
with sleep.