TO P. R. C.

So you want a poem

not for you,

but about you,

as you nibble at your

piece of cheese,

laying on your back

on the bed

with sunglasses on.

The sun is long

gone from the room

left in shadows.

But you shield

your eyes

from me,

nibbling

on your cheese

like a little furry

mouse, eating

a piece

of the golden

sun.

06.05.2019