it isn’t coping but it is a way
to keep pace with how little things
change, I count teabags
used since you had a cup with me
700 is my guess
averaging two a day
but not counting coffee
one wonders if I’ve lost the
plot in an introspective rut
too deep to see both sides of –
believing time is measured only
in residue of past events; okay
so what, I have at least 700
reasons to know I’m lonely
© 30 October 2009, I. D. Carswell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem