Monday, 14 December 2009

My wife's new pink slippers
have gay pompons.
There is not a spot or a stain
on their satin toes or their sides.
All night they lie together
under her bed's edge.
Shivering I catch sight of them
and smile, in the morning.
Later I watch them
descending the stair,
hurrying through the doors
and round the table,
moving stiffly
with a shake of their gay pompons!
And I talk to them
in my secret mind
out of pure happiness.

... William Carlos Williams

Notes: I like. The Thinker. Thinking about love and life and everything else is fine. But talking to slippers? Definitely something that I don't see myself doing anytime soon. It's stretching the definition of SIMPLE PLEASURES just a little too much.


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