Still Life With Coffee

It’s not just the turning of the leaves

or the turning of the calendar that sets these fingers free

it’s the freedom to do anything

freedom to do anything and I do this

I choose to do this: miss the leaves that left.

I don’t want to dance myself into depression, who chooses to be depressed?

I do.

I sip my midnight like my coffee: black, no sugar.

At the crack of black midnight Sunday morning, still life with coffee, I turn like leaves and

fall.

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2 thoughts on “Still Life With Coffee

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