Posted in art, poetry, writing

From Generation

From Generation  What would his mother say, him leaving the table without excusing himself as if we didn’t exist, as if we hadn’t driven here together as if he’d rather be watching TV than exchanging words with people he once said he loves?  His back staggered our conversation like a child screaming in obstinance to social responsibility, deafening fits interrupting the ease of good company like spilled coffee on white pants, regretable combinations.   She wouldn’t say a thing.Sunday morning coffee is one of my favorite things. It’s the poetry of a survived Saturday night. It’s the pause of appreciation for the privilege of indulgence. Most of all, it’s just delicious. I hope you were enjoying a cup of coffee while reading this. After all, poetry and coffee are bred to coexist. Cheers to the week ahead!

–Leanne Rebecca

 

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Author:

Poetry and music.

8 thoughts on “From Generation

  1. Wonderful thoughts on this.
    Yes, a cup of java is appropriate with reading, and writing on this site.
    Great to hear from you. I look forward to reading much more from you.

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