How is it that it was just an ordinary day?
I sat on the couch and drank coffee
Reading one of the Brontes, again.
For breakfast I had slightly burnt toast
That left crumbs all over the floor,
Showered and dressed and went outside
To sit in the sun with more coffee and books.
A precious day off, a day with no urgency
Leaving me relaxed and calm and contented.
I tipped my head back, closed my eyes
And basked in the rare bliss of Irish sunshine.
The shrill summons of a ringtone interrupted,
Mildly irritating but I answered, my hello abrupt.
Then the day splintering around me, the world altered,
Rushing away to deal with intruding life.
Midnight before I staggered home again exhausted,
Worn out with waiting and the outcome of the wait,
The sun was gone, the dishes unwashed, the day finished,
The crumbs on the floor to be swept away before I could sleep.