PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

At home, alone.  It's a usual banal day.

I labor putting life to pots of clay.

'Tis then a chatter of drops I hear,

Speaking softly upon the water's pier;

A six-minute saunter from here away

-- A Proustian reminder when I'd lay

With her, fecund with arcane verse,

So my heart but not my words, terse.

But now the rain stops.  Again I'm caught

On this prosaic task, and a new thought.