Ennui - 1

He sits where he has always sat each night

A pint of beer - hallf-empty and half-full -

A box of matches and a cigarette

Staring into space, caught in a light

Which pins his shadow to the chest of draws

Its brown weight stolid as his crumpled suite

And the fading patterns on his table cloth.

His mind, as ever, in rapt attention pours

Over the mintiae of his day and sets

In order all the non-events which click

Into their places alongside the meals

Which are always there, in case he frets.

          Life revolves round breakfast time and tea

          With everything in place, as it should be.

Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick 19.10.22