It's Still Life

I. (for Miz Quickly)
Two Oldies in a Luke Warm House

To begin

we are not poor,
but in these times,
we live as though we are.

It’s morning.
I turn on the heating, a mere
half hour, and make coffee,

it warms from the inside out.

We exchange greetings.
Good mornings.
Enquire about sleep.

We speak softly in the quiver
of our small shattered voices.

Our house is dim, a waning light.
Strange. I don’t cast a shadow.

II. (for Poetic Asides)
Her Thunder Underfoot

She’s a soft flow
in an hourglass,

fast as wild sky,
and pent up motion.

She ties her shoes.
The north wind stretches
behind her, and

she runs.
The race is on.

III. (for Poetic Asides)
We Drowsy Mortals

Rain.
More rain.

It’s the honoured poverty
of a poet’s last word.
Like cold hollows of winter.

Those mortal moments,
that shake us, and our
relics of sweet dreams.

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These poems/prose are draft versions, written in participation of Miz Quickly’s prompts and Writers’ Digest (Poetic Asides) November poem-a-day challenge. The aim: to produce a chapbook for submission. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Image AI digital artwork ©Misky.