I live in soothing comfort
anchored in my routines,
knowing what I’m up against
and how I can succeed.
Breakfast and some orange juice,
no coffee or caffeine.
To the gym for a workout,
then to the office scene.
A comfortable chair to sit,
the desk I brought from home.
We began with what we had,
this company we own.
My partners fill their spaces,
the workday now begins
with duties that I know well
and trials I can win.
I have made a good life here,
plenty of time to play.
Nothing distracts from friendships,
filling our youthful days.
Friends I have known since grade school,
from kids to childish men.
Our pageantry and laughing,
nights out that need not end.
Soon, the office springs to life
with customers in need,
opportunities for action,
opportunities to please.
All of this bringing comfort,
exuberance and routine.
A balanced experience
as my own desk phone rings.
The message puts the lights out
and I sit in darkness.
As I’m told my best friend died,
the news leaves me sightless.
No comfort now in routines,
my youth has washed away,
just breathing and taking steps,
rebuilding each new day.
This poem was posted for the previous week’s poetry prompt, Shock. I’m not sure I lived up to Dickinson’s standards, but I’m very interested to hear how it made you feel, please share in the comments.
Poetry Prompts and Poems 