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Thursday, 7 November 2013

Support

I sense your fear
Your fear of my giving up work
Your fear of taking on yet another dependent

The fear becomes a silence between us
Unable to elucidate our thoughts
How much easier, or not

If I was of independent means
The fear turns into action
As you check off my letter of application

For a job that I do not want
A job that is possibly beyond me
A job whose only attraction is its local vicinity

I wonder if the fear is your fear
Is it that you are afraid for me
Feared that I will do naught

Yet if we talk, although
We don’t often talk on this matter
We end up talking about the money

Not that I want to be an ascetic
Nor give up our worldly possessions
Neither be unable to go away on vacations

It is that I am beginning
To put a very high value on my time
On my time with freedom to do with as we wish

I want, I want, I want
As much as any spoilt child wanted
I want time back, time for me, time for me & you

Time for me, for you, and for our love
Love of a life more gentle
Even love that’s a little bit sentimental

Somehow it is easier to put it on the page


Cut It - Love of Perfumed Grains of Dust
Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links