A LITTLE COTTAGE IN KENT

My life is at a standstill,

Stagnant and dying;

Moldy and dank;

Like the back room of an old cottage,

Where the door never closed properly.

 I feel left undone -

Such as the little tiles that

I get caught between my toes ,

As I hurry to the kitchen at night

When it's dark and quite -

Sometimes I hear the leaves blowing

Or a cat-fight out in the darkness.

But I'm still alone - 

This place seems too stale for my liking

All though it was once lit up

Like the faces of her company

That stopped by daily

Just to talk or drop off food

Good food - real food

Not this junk growing old in my ice box.

I'm crying,  Love - for something more.

Something I missed - in a dream

Or just a wish - a fantasy

Unfulfilled - once again.

I miss her - sometimes

I really never thought I would.

I just thought she'd be back again

Like always when she went away

Then appeared

I never knew when - just some odd time

Like in the middle of the night when I was sleeping

With a friend in her bed...

What a fright!

Then the kitten jumped on me

And was gone before I fully awoke.

~Yvonne Renee Moore