Mondays - Numb days
The strong stench of boredom,
stale seriousness, the Ego's self importance
rocking me in its familiar, codependent arms.
Today like an old wall,
layers upon layers,
mopped together with thick white horse paste
wall paper slices, leaves of boiled cabbage
yesterdays news, now today.
Another sheet being rolled up,
Perhaps a cup of cold air will do
or a strong Americano with a shot of steamed milk,
a warm chausson aux pommes
my Love's sweet kiss on the cheek
reminding me to hold on to
By Mai Brehaut