The Lamp

The lamp extends the usable hours of my day

casts a warm yellow glow, a circle of focus

around my favourite chair

and the little round table that holds

my Tower of Books

sometimes neat with all the spines even—

more often raggedy, twisting, the corners

of each book offset from the one below it.

It spotlights my one-ness

my me-ness, this quietude.

Under how many circles of light have I sat,

in how many chairs, during how many

evenings long past sunset

consuming words or watching them pour

from pen to paper,

my word factory alive after dark.

In lamplight I avoid common accidents of life,

like banging a table leg or

or unravelling by catching a thread

on an unseen thought.

I grasp the corner of a book from the pile,

tug gently, enter a world where words live,

pull me in, let me out.

One thought on “The Lamp

Add yours

  1. Simple, beautifully expressed! I love this.

    Eileen

    On Tue, Sep 7, 2021 at 2:43 PM Progressive Tense wrote:

    > mariafordwriter posted: ” The lamp extends the usable hours of my day > casts a warm yellow glow, a circle of focus around my favourite chair and > the little round table that holds my Tower of Books sometimes neat with all > the spines even— more often raggedy, twist” >

    Liked by 1 person

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