H'm, should have been working hard after work... instead:
A first draft for any comments:
Measuring Up
You drape socks on the radiator,
each one pulled straight, in pairs.
No-one said you would choose this life:
things happened, things didn’t. Sometimes
the choices were yours, sometimes not.
The hours asleep, the longer hours awake
at home, at work, the daydreams
when travelling, the meals, the customs
you observed and then followed, clothes
you assumed would say something
and the hairstyles, shoes, which quietened
with age. How your accent changed
and how you tried to turn, by faith,
complex yet simple abstract nouns into verbs -
words like hope and love. Each cup of coffee
you’ve drunk after spooning in the granules
sipped while still warm in afternoons
before what happens next.
Bob Cooper
(who, you might want to know, has read - and borrowed or stolen - something
TS Eliot wrote)
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