Morning Show Poem by Mandy Baldwin

She dances alone in the kitchen
where morning spills light on the floor
and the radio plays all those bright yesterdays
that will never be hers, any more.
while the teabags are brewing she's moving
to songs that made that summer theirs;
in the long grass she's sweetly unfaithful
while her husband lies snoring, upstairs.
There was more to her, once, than her pastry
and being the shadow called 'wife'.
There were hints of the gypsy inside her,
before she got settled in life.
There was moonrise on Blackwater Lake, then -
now dishes stand waiting in rows.
So she dances and dreams in the kitchen
And hopes the old man never knows.