Tuesday, April 4, 2017

My First Sonnet

The Ordinary

We will celebrate two years this autumn so

I eat moringa seeds with joy and hope. To

the job that swallows then hurls me out at night

five days a week, makes me forget how light

headed I once was, dreaming awake. Now: tax,

merger, pension, gratuity, punctuality; pacts

reneged on, life slaps my skin as a sandy wind

would. No one really asks to be ordinary, as sin.

It just happens, like shit.

The seeds are sweet and are an unexpected gift

from a client who makes a fraction of the day lift.

Home makes the daily smudge of life worthwhile

as the companion who cooks, loves, snores, wins my smile.
I find my peace in this piece of peace of mind.

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