A typical day

maybe i stirred the stew
and thought of you
in a mundane meandering way
and looked out of the window
remarked on the passionate day
maybe i pottered about a bit
straightened some cushions
fished out the sewing kit
sat down to embroider
or macramé
or knit
gave them all up to
just sit
to sip wine and
look at old snapshots
play ancient tapes
smoke some pot
maybe i walked bare feet
in the grass
toes curling against the sensation
of the sharp and wet
maybe a whole lot of time
passed
and i know not how
the day you left me
at last.