When I woke it was with me,
curled around my shoulders like a scarf
both there and not,
tickling the hairs on the back of my neck
as I shuffled around the kitchen
to brew the tea and start breakfast,
crockery clinking between my hands
while it whispered around me.
Seeing the shadow across the door
The same as when someone balances a plate
too far beyond the edge of a counter
but you can’t do anything except watch it waver
half way between safe and broken.
When it finally hits the ground
shattering into bright, white slithers
that dance across the tiles into every corner
the chord snaps and you can breath again.
It’s the waiting that drains you
until there’s nothing left to give.
Daily Prompt: Premonition
This is the fourth poem I’ve posted today here on writing and works, I’ve been trying to write more poetry and I’ve found the more I write the easier it gets. It’s also helping me improve my poetry so if you’ve got the time any feedback would be greatly appreciated.
I’d particularly like your thoughts on a piece called Legs Eleven . It’s a little more political and perhaps personal that my normal fare but I hope it’s a poem with a little more power as well.
Thank you for reading.