Clockwork Poem by Susan Lacovara

Always there is time for tea
And tenderness
A visit from his faraway eyes

Nothing implied
Little revealed
Something resides
In the safety of his simplicity

No heavy handed swat of judgment
No soft sweep of truth under a carpet
No flapping laundry on a line
No take it back talk

Always hours for hello and goodbye
Penciled in appointments of assurance
Small measures of remembering friendship takes two
Two teacups full








And absolutely without true need

I planted seeds under a Sunday sky
Hands dirtied by the useful chore
And thought out loud,
No more, no more...
The clouds to offend my days