With a large spoon in hand, he noisily scrapes
along the bottom of his breakfast cereal bowl,
a 40-year old habit he knows irritates me,
but for whatever reason he cannot break.
After our luncheon meal, he eases himself into
his lounge chair,
lights up a cigar and continues to slide it
in and out of his mouth.
Why and when did he start doing this?
At dinner, he eats with obvious pleasure his favorite
home-cooked meal I automatically prepared for him
and he fills the air with a rush of words to cover
my silence.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are played out in
3/4 time.
I used to hear the music.
Elke Nigro
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-used-to-hear-the-music/
