About The Oak Table Poem Number Five
Poem By Ivona Sophia
we don’t count days anymore. it is very natural
to be together, the same as getting wrinkles
or gray hair. spring sunlight sharpens
the edges of our faces, making us more aware of time.
you are taking the dogs for a walk, walking straight,
the dogs are barking at birds and shadows, bouncing
around your legs. a certainty makes me want to stay
here in this house, at the table you’ve made,
with a smile in my eyes, watching you leave.
in a while you’ll vanish into the woods.
I don’t count minutes anymore. you will be back
soon. now it is time to plant new flowers. I never
wear gloves, I like the texture of soil, little clods
of earth under my nails. then you return
with a stone in the shape of a heart.