Ed

There is a time
When personification
Is simply inappropriate,
Like when I’m sitting
Cross-legged and barefoot
On the couch
Trying to find something else to look at

I like the sleeping dog and
The odd Blue circle
That must be
A window ornament
But is only a silhouette
Through the blinds
Which are always closed
As if to make the room
Relaxed despite the way
I am slowly overtaken
Until I cannot remember
What I know
Except for being hungry
And missing him
All of them