I didn’t go to meditation
I didn’t go on a spiritual retreat
I didn’t have a soothing massage
Nor have reflexology for my feet
Mostly I did nothing, nothing
Neither in nor out of doors
I didn’t go big city shopping
Nor set-to, on washing the floors
First plans fell by the wayside
Taking the wind out of our sails
Snowfall and the fearful frost fright
Forced the horse-racing off the rails
We did drive out into the country
For a pale ale and pub pie lunch
We walked through the graveyard
To hear our footfalls crisply crunch
I didn’t offer up much excitement
My conversations so slow to start
I hope I didn’t mean to mislead you
Your place is firmly in my heart
This is a poem from Vagaries:
Love of The Key to Room 149