Saturday
       

Light squares the windows.
The lover you slept with sleeps on
as you get up and peer out.

Rain done.
A tide-swept beach.
Whatever the day will bring

must be over the horizon even now.
And there's the novel you went to sleep reading,
where for pages and pages it stays Saturday,

someone else standing like this
at another window.

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Copyright © 2015 Lex Runciman All rights reserved
from One Hour That Morning
Salmon Poetry
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission