poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “companionship”

the start of a brand new day

there’s something missing he said
opening the refrigerator
pulling out a mcintosh and
gutting it with the round steel slicer

deliberately he ate slice after slice in
complete silence
focusing on the uneasy feeling
deep inside his core

outside on the front patio he heard
the daily paper kicking the door

out back a stray cat cried in the cold
garnering the attention of camouflaged chickadees
sitting quietly from within the pines

a gust of wind brought forth new life
from the many wind chimes

beneath his feet he feels the morning train
beginning to roll from a few miles away
a good forty minutes late he tells himself

as the first whistle blows
the sun breaks free from the clouds

january two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Meeting yet again

I never told you I was a chameleon
though sometimes
I’ve said my eyes are the color of money
other times they’re as blue
as my melancholic thoughts

Sometimes I tell myself I should call in sick
but every monday morning
you talk me out of it
and suddenly I’m gone
like a paperboy on a mission

Whistlers usher in five o’clock and
we meet yet again at our favorite pub
toasting to good health
and choosing favorite colors
giving new meaning to our astonishing lives

december two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

imperfect papers

when they wired this one
there was no ground
it was either lights on
or lights out

she told me if I wanted
to wait another week
she was expecting
a new delivery

shaking my head
I explained how I needed
to move on after
losing Rosie last month

buckling her replacement
into my hatchback
I hoped to regain
what efficiency I had lost

december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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