Thursday, September 10, 2009

A View From the Nest: A Sonnet

She sank against my arm and turned her head
to eye the stack of luggage by the door
and murmured sternly 'did you make your bed?'
(a question she had always asked before).
I felt her ribs expand against my side,
corseted 'neath her women's choir dress
and felt the slightest impulse to deride
her age old inclination to digress.
'Of course,' I squeezed her hand and, with a sigh,
lifted my gaze to meet the opened door,
a grinning portal, a wide, unblinking eye,
an exit I had never made before.
The Sunday sun was spilling through the shutters
and lighted the dust that stirred our farewell mutters.