“It’s Equinox” you say. Voice
flat with vague disinterest.
Naked (except your glasses)
beneath white sheets. Too warm
still for cozy blankets and
other hints of the season.

I prefer asymetry,
but hold the thought in silence.
Solstice, or any old day,
to this false equality.
This summer to Autumn shift.

I turn, off to start my day.
Your hand, firm, takes my knee. I
pause. For the first time. Maybe?
Thirteen years. Suddenly clear.

Glasses. Hair. Beard. Symmetry.
Even your voice. Indifferent.
Flat. I flood with resignation.
Or regret. I prefer a-
symmetry. But hold the thought
in soft Autumnal silence.

 

@SpicyPoet2025

Response to Monday Poetry Prompt: Equinox
https://livingpoetry.net/blog/