ManicDDaily

Home Awaying

When you head off for days tomorrow
this little room will fill with sorrow;
won’t want to open any door,
my heart too jammed in acting sore.

To persuade you sooner to come back,
I will clothe myself in lack–
I don’t mean here a luring bare–
my version’s always matted hair,
woe-ven sackcloth, wrinkled ash–
somehow, it won’t recall you fast–

At least not faster, though it’s true–
when I call with voice full rue,
you hear below the drama’s pitch
the timbre of a wound unstitched,
an ache as deep as Lake Baikal,
a plunge as stark as Angela Fall–
I’m doing it again, okay,
but checked them both online, and say–

forgive me if I make it harder
for each of us to be a-parter–
stiff upper lip’s just not my style,
stiff other things (now, there’s a smile)
are far preferred for helping cope
when life is not a funny joke.

So, hurry, dear, and then stay put;
your head by mine, also your foot
aside my sock, my wooly sole,
paired together make a whole.
The little room of our tomorrow
will hold then just one cornered sorrow
required for a C of O
under every building code I know.

**********************************
This started as serious lyrical poem, and then quickly degenerated to my typical ruefully sentimental couplets. Agh! I am posting it as my 9th April poem, and also for Helen’s prompt on abodes posted on With Real Toads–http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com.

Process note–“C of O” stands for “Certificate of Occupancy” legally required for a habitable dwelling under most U.S. building codes/zoning rules, etc.

The rather silly pic is taken in the room where I stay in the City–my husband down with me here for a day, but needing to take a trip elsewhere–so not my abode! (Thank God!)