Hovering Between Expectation and Expectoration

She said she'd come. I've fixed a modest dinner:
Stew the way it's made in Africa, with yams
And peanuts, lots of spice, a simple salad spiked
With golden raisins, chunks of Roquefort cheese.
I clipped some of the daffodils which gaily wave
Beside my driveway. They're a lovely centerpiece.
The house is clean(ish). I have gone so far as to
Have changed my shirt. I'm not sure what more
I can do. She said she'd come. She has before.
This time, I hope she does.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 32 times
Written on 2020-05-09 at 01:38

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