Submitted to Poetry 101 Rehab,
currently hosted by Andy Townend
I don’t look forward, toward the future,
not because I do not want to see what comes,
for I know already far too well its promise
and the various branches of the road
that face all at its near or lingering end,
Nor do I look behind me, loath to leave
the pleasures and companions of youth,
idle days with many years ahead to hold
both current plans and following projects
that could have occupied a hundred lifetimes.
Today I sit here at my window, listening
to the sound of wind, taking in sweet
scents of promised rain. Holding myself
present to the now, I savor the smooth taste
of coffee in my cup, attend the texture
of the paper, feel the pencil in my hand.
Copyright © 2015-08-18, by Liz Bennefeld.
All rights reserved.
I woke up, today, with the first two lines of the poem going through my head. By the time I got to write them down, the outline for the rest was waiting for me.