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Time in a Mug

So far this morning
I have poured boiling water
Into my mug’s gaping mouth
Rather than the French Press
Where freshly ground coffee
Awaited

I have set the timer
On the microwave
Rather than actually
Running the thing

I have placed
Honey into the frig
Rather than back
On it’s shelf

I have poured
A mug of coffee
I somehow
Finally 
Made

But I forgot to pour
What remained 
Into thermal holdings
Which were 
Out of sight
Out of mind

Valuable
Badly needed
Dark liquid 
Cooled 
And bittered
While I sat 
Staring… 
Computer screen
Glowing
Filled to the brim
Wondering
What I am doing?

There is a point
Of tired
Where 
Brain ceases 
Its clicks and grinds 
And musings
But it does try
Floating obscure messages
Protest signs
In a bottle
Through a foggy sea

And when
Just the thought
Of writing
Makes my stomach turn
As I feel fear 
And inadequacy
I know 
I have gone too far

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3 Comments

  1. Maery, I know where you are coming from…I “put away” a block of cheese and still can’t find it. I figure one day it will reveal itself by scent. Either that or Zippy ate it when I wasn’t looking. Too much going on these days. By the way…you are my first catch up too! Thanks!

  2. Maery, good to see you. I go through this every morning (I have things I will NEVER find)…I chalk it up to over busy and not enough sleep…and then there’s the age thing, but I still think that is a backseat driver in the whole thing. Take care.
    Perhaps a nice glass of wine is in order.

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