poetry by j matthew waters

with no place to go

I’m sitting in a rocking chair
next to the bay window
a ray of light shining through
warming my hands

inside a clock is ticking
a fire burning
eyes shut tight I listen
to the house settling
as finches gather
in nearby spindle tree

I’ve watched the cycling
of the seasons
for so many years gone by
from this very place
where the passage of time
simply stands still

february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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4 thoughts on “with no place to go

  1. Good thoughts coming to you xo

  2. Shawna on said:

    This is heartbreaking, thinking about it describing someone who is literally paralyzed, watching those cyclists ride down the street.

    My first thought, though, was about Norman Bates filling that rocking chair, wearing his mother’s clothes. 🙂

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