Interior of a Dining Room by Martin Drolling
Sonnet to Me
It's me again, just me, alone with Spot.
She cooks, serves food, yet turns her back again.
This empty room reminds me what I'm not,
namely, a man complete without the pain.
I talk, I smile, I give my love flowers.
Fine clothes, fresh scents, grooming impeccable,
Lady remains immune to my powers
of love with romance indescribable.
I long to kiss her sweet red lips so fair,
to grab her waist and pull her close to me,
run my fingers through red cascading hair.
Certainly a happy man I would be.
Alas, she'll never dine beside me here.
I eat with Spot and not my lady dear.
Copyright 2008 JO Janoski
At least he has Spot... Your usual command of form and language - well done.
ReplyDeleteOh, such woe
ReplyDeletewonderful and fun read. I like the reserved wanting.
You just can't underestimate the love of a good dog.
ReplyDeleteErrr, did I mean overestimate?
ReplyDeleteha--good read this morning
ReplyDeleteWho was it who said that comedy is tragedy plus time? As usual, your work supplies both. I like this, Jo...
ReplyDeletenice piece of poetry here! ~_^
ReplyDelete