The notifications are gone
Flags all disappeared
No new email
The silence is weird
Feels almost like
The whole world is dead
As more illogical thoughts
Fill up my head
Maybe I’m crazy
Or so I’ve been told
But the quiet is depressing
When the screen has gone cold
And isn’t that the issue
The problem we all face
Think I’ve become a phone zombie
And it’s such a disgrace
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/iphone-template-mockup-mock-up-500291/
All curled up
In a ball on my chair
It’s quiet here
A slight chill in the air
The solitude cradles me
Like a cocoon
I’ve been this way
All afternoon
My mind isn’t right
And I almost feel drugged
Could be I’ve contracted
Some weird, nasty bug
My eyelids flutter
As I drift off again
You’d laugh at the sight
I’m currently in
A view for sore eyes
On a cold winters day
Come visit me again
When I’m feeling okay
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/cat-kitty-feline-cute-adorable-1819447/
Of all the things
We mend each day
A heart is rather hard
They say
Stitching a heart
Requires patience and skill
A steady hand
And a very sharp quill
Most people flee
From the needle at hand
For they will not agree
With what they don’t understand
And sharp objects
Are never very nice
So a wounded heart
Is often left to suffice
Yet the task of mending
Is actually quite easy
If you can find a person
Who isn’t too queasy
But just how often
Is somebody actually willing
To take a chance
On further heart spilling
Most would rather
Just let things be
Because mending a heart
Isn’t easy you see
It may seem simple
To the mender
But not for the person
Who must surrender
Matters of the heart
Are never quite clear
And that’s just the way it is
My dear
© 2019 Michelle Cook
She said…
Welcome to the age
Of being quite old
Imperfections aplenty
And your feet are always cold
You used to have friends
But you can’t remember them now
And you try to make new ones
But you can’t remember how
You miss the days
When you were once vibrant and energetic
You’re now considered dull
And a wee bit eccentric
You look in the mirror
And you notice every strange feature
And you wonder how you became
Such an odd looking creature
You think of ways
In which you could improve
But that would then mean
You’d actually have to move
So you sigh a huge sigh
And bury your head
Deep in your pillow
On your old comfy bed
And you give yourself over
To the effects of time
Knowing you’ll never again be
At your prime
© 2019 Michelle Cook
I am a slave
To its ring
That monstrosity
Of a thing
It calls for me
Night and day
Happily chiming
In its annoying way
And I wonder
What’s the good
To wish for a life
Beyond motherhood
For I was born to clean
Every mess
And so now
I shall digress
© 2019 Michelle Cook
For a month of writing prompts, click here; Waterspout wishes
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