Blue Face

Blue Face

The blue face of my digital clock,
the soles of my black shoes,
the zippered pocket of my favorite fleece,
garden gloves sporting holes in fingertips,
the pen cap, thumb tack in the kitchen drawer,
black brush with plastic bristles bent,
my red-striped Oxford button down,
the blue blanket on the bed,
the yellow quilt, the green bookcase
Anne once painted,
are all alive.

When they chip, crack, or come apart,
my body aches a bit with phantom pain,
and to be truthful,
I say, Thank you,
As I put them in the bin.

Yet, and still, while they live,
I embrace their mass,
their texture, their fiber,
I absorb their color with my eyes,
I hold their warmth with my touch;
I breathe life into them,
and in some strange way,
in their mute fashion,
they give back love to me.

Author: Jefferson Singer

Photo: Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash