Poem: Saturday Afternoon in July
I know, it isn’t July any longer, but it IS still summer. Robert has promised to provide a poem to publish on my blog at least once a month.
Given my son’s impossible schedule, I’m thankful to get that.
- He’s a full professor teaching Spanish and Portuguese language and literature.
- He’s a student working towards a Bachelor’s degree in Music.
- He’s the single father of a soon-to-be-14 daughter who is too smart for her own good, and…
- Yes, ladies, he cleans, cooks, and does laundry!
If you’d like to see more of his poetry, please let him know in the reply section.
For people who cannot read what is on the picture below, I’ve written out the text:
Saturday Afternoon in July:
Beyond the dining room table lies an ant,
Large for this house, and then red painted walls,
Before my time, then the original patio,
Heaving on six old and overworked pillars,
Wood from last century, and only of on these things
Can lift twice its weight.
Blueberry colored pillows matching pencil unhinged,
Open ps and qs music stand flipped to off mode
Strands of hair in a sink and a child trimmed mane
A dusting cloth for the one,
Nothing to do with the rest
Drink my coffee
And hope for the best
While the laundry rolls on upstairs.