Her laptop sits upon my pillow,
poems covering my side of our bed.

Jazz escapes her earphones as I lean
in for a quick peck on my cheek.

Her eyes return to her writings
as I exit unmissed to the den.

This same scene, nine months of
nights, sleeping on the couch.

I hold myself to blame, begged
her to come, read for open mike

and she loved it. Her first reading
wowed the audience, read again,

became a regular, joined poetry
groups, found her voice,

was asked to be the featured reader,
wrote more, read more, published,

working on her second collection,
poems covering my side of our bed.

Carl “Papa” Palmer of Old Mill Road in Ridgeway, VA. now lives in University Place, WA. He is retired military, retired FAA and now just plain retired with no wristwatch, cell phone nor alarm clock. Carl, Hospice volunteer and president of The Tacoma Writers Club is a Pushcart Prize and Micro Award nominee.
MOTTO: Long Weekends Forever