On the Couch

One way is on my stomach,
knees bent so my ankles cup

the curved top of the arm rest
just so, like we were made for each other,

with enough room at the top
of the pillow for the big orange cat.

We are tired of late nights, we just want
to close our eyes and fly away,

dream among the birds and treetops,
black shapes in the purple sky.

 

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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