12:30 on a Saturday afternoon and feeling
As if the lack of solitude might crush him,
Like 4 walls of an illusory shrinking carnival fun house elevator vault closing in on him.
Sounds of footsteps above and around in the not-so-empty Colonial-style, 2-level house
Foreboding yet further interruptions of thoughts read,
Of thoughts thought and better left unsaid.
Awakening the morning with the sun and a 3-mile walk around the lake,
Noticing the kitty noticing him in the window between the panes of glass
And pulled down Venetian shades.
Wondering why the sleepy little wanna-be city
Was so slow to awaken,
On this solicitous Saturday morn.
Walls of lack of solitude closing in,
Longing for the interruptions-
Such excuses for not picking up the pen:
To write, to write, to write.
Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 04/09/2016