the serious work

he took his work
very seriously

he knew
the dependence that attached
to each verse

he poured a cup
placed paper
and his pen
sat down
at the desk beneath the window
where the warm of the sun
might find him

and he wrote
the scene he saw
on the other side
of the glass

he wrote
the light
of the day

he wrote the love affair
of his neighbor
with her garden

of the few folk
attending chapel
these days

of their prayers

his pen
drew the picture
in words
of everything he could imagine
around him

on the paper
he rewrote
his little world
for the entirety
of a day

when he’d finished
job done
he leaned back
in the chair
and stretched

so tired

the work of the poet
he took
quite seriously

for if he failed
just once
to imagine the unfolding
of a day
what might the world
come to be

would his world

© Frank Prem, 2017

July 2017 Poem #28: fending


5 thoughts on “the serious work

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