This intricacy in our small recess
In this winter room
Has a magnetic constant current
Lightly swirling in our domestic world.
We sit in our small sitting space
Hammered into the corner
By habit, sealed together
By habitual esteem.
You. On the sofa with the
Green and silver leaves;
A pushy purchase, by me
A special deal from Hunters.
Me. Perched in the armchair,
Some family leftover, recreated
In months of upholstery classes.
I swing back in the chair
Knowing its small subtle irritation.
We look fondly at one another.
From lovers to parents, we grow
Into our ionised selves.
The coffee machine on the
Kitchen altar, approached in
2 cups each, our smiles of satisfaction
Ease through old manners
and customs over krema.
A good brew. A good day.
We discuss our sons, our friends
Arrive at estimates of what we
Already know and speculate
On the hidden. Our silences
Are companionable. What is time
In this little reckoning,
The merest measure,
the swing and pull
of shifting shadows and passing time.
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