Sam Silva

 

 

MONEY

 

 

The practical life eludes me

...the dishes to be washed

are plastic or paper

stuck with crust

in a rubbish bin

 

...when buds give forth

their bloody eruptions

or in winter's icicles

frozen at the drip

 

...either way...I stuff my head in a pillow

watch the garden's window

through the corner of my eye

 

and dream those dreams of a soulful heaven

and rise at two

and lie down at eleven

 

and fall asleep

to a lullaby.

 

 

 

Sam Silva © 2015