DAYS LIKE TODAY

DAYS LIKE TODAY

by Robin Shwedo

©: Robin Shwedo, 1995, 2022



Days like today

there are places I’d much rather be.

On rainy days like this,

the perfect day would be something like this:

sleeping late in a large comfortable bed

(preferably,

though not necessarily,

with the man I love)

and,

on waking,

finding the children off at school;

the afternoon spent in the living room of the house I grew up in,

fireplace going,

a large pot of herbal tea on the table before me

and nowhere to go

nowhere to be

but here.

Days like today,

I tend to think back to other rainy days,

days that went like this:

sitting in a coffee shop,

seeing the lights outside

reflected off the

streets and sidewalks,

people scurrying home

or other places,

collars pulled up around their necks,

bright umbrellas

leading the charge,

know I soon

will be joining them,

or driving home from Tampa

across a bridge,

seeing the other two bridges,

one to the right,

one to the left,

with strings of moving lights

reflecting off the bay,

as I head home.

There are worse ways

to spend days like this –

homeless,

scared.

But none better than what I’d imagine.



The first half was written 4/11/1995; it was finished 11/11/2022. It is part of a yet-unnamed poetry collection.