Prose Poem #1

I just found this in draft form on my flash drive, along with several other 'work in progress' pieces. Hard to believe that only a few months ago there was snow on the ground and we were all saying where is that sun. Anyways, enjoy. Or not. It's up to you.



Back from a long walk by the sea, making the most of the January sunshine, I make myself a sandwich. I can hear the lady next door talking but I can't make out the words just the sound of her voice. I wonder what she is saying and to whom.

From my window I can see a black cat asleep on the roof below, oblivious to the world and to me looking. At the end of the garden another cat is in the tree attempting to climb that bit further to find a better spot.

Back in my front room the sun lights up the white walls of the house across the road, the snow on the roof the only clue that it's winter. A lady walks down the alley beside the house, long woolly boots and coat and hat to keep her warm. She looks happy and I wonder if she is meeting anyone. My mind wanders to a fantasy about her and goes off down an alleyway all of its own.

On the table are two canvasses I have been working on for some time now. At least twice I have completely painted over one and started again. I wonder if I will ever be satisfied with how it looks. It's a bit of an experiment anyway. The other is for my daughter. Really I am frightened to touch either of them in case I make another mistake, but then nothing is ever accomplished. I feel stuck, and it occurs to me that this is also exactly how my life is at the moment, and has been for some time now.