How fine the line between chaos
and order. This chair, placed there,
invites. Placed otherwhere, is all
alone, and bare. A comb and brush
askew, necklaces strewn, towels
flung, confuse. Straightened, they
comfort, ask to be used. Spots
on the rug are only wine flung
from goblets raised when songs are sung.
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I love this sense of the fine line between chaos and order. And I love the image I get from the final line. Wonderful!
ReplyDeleteps - I also loved your Kitchen Sink poem!
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