Sunday
Sunday
Blank screen waits for me to fill it with strange letters,
but there is no haste as this is a lazy sunny afternoon.
Earlier today when the window shutters were still on
someone knocked on my door, I hid in the bedroom
didn’t want to open. Been alone for a month now and
don’t like to meet people and talk idly about nothing,
be polite and offer coffee and cakes.
Just been reading about the Portuguese in Zaire,
they took their culture with them and thought their
sweet African life would last forever- what a useless
word forever is- and now it is all memories in books,
few bother to read. This afternoon too will glide away
as I sit here, wondering who knocked on my door.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
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