Notice what you notice
when you look out and
see the man who briskly walks
each day, you open the blind just as
he passes and assume he is minding his heart
does he see you too?
your smile when you think of your mother
insides lava with love and
grief and the sheer pit of it
you cut thoughts of your father off
your hardrive full, safe mode
the laughter of little ones
on their way each morning
followed by mum or dad emailing, texting
with scooter and pup in tow
Look at them you want to call
you’ll miss the best parts!
the way you feel tight in the morning
sinewy and seizing, taking longer to ease
you exercise for that now and take the odd pill
but are not a morning person
unless its sunny
they don’t seek you out anymore
that you are a grump
used to be a laugh, at least more of a laugh
pick it up, put it back, don’t forget,
no you can’t, because I said so
how do they put up with you at all?
but they do
and each night a warm hand
finds its way to yours.
Jenny Byrne lives in Dublin, Ireland with her husband and her two teenage children and is originally from the seaside town of Bray. Being near the sea always feels like home. A newcomer to the writing scene, she is enjoying the practice of it and the vibrant writing community very much. Focusing on observations of being human and ‘the everyday’, she writes her take on life. Her poems have been published in The Galway Review and Impspired.