By John Sangster

    Each day we wade into life.
    We have plans, of course!
    Things we'll get to,
    get back to.

    Someday we'll gather it all,
    enfold it in our arms
    like laundry, fresh and warm
    from the dryer.

    But a sock gets loose,
    a pair of silk panties . . .
    Behind us on the hallway floor,
    what we had in mind.

©2004 by John Sangster

Posted in Poetry |