by Ethel Mortenson Davis
blackness
seeps
in my room.
he crawls up
onto my lap
like the uninvited guest
he always is.
i keep hoping
he’ll leave
before dinner.
Blackness
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
blackness
seeps
in my room.
he crawls up
onto my lap
like the uninvited guest
he always is.
i keep hoping
he’ll leave
before dinner.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
fourwindowspress 
I love this personification Ethel.
And. I have had this feeling too
Love Christine x
I recall when blackness used to visit me as well–what a horrid uninvited guest; and he never left before dinner, always stayed through the night. God bless you, Ethel–love, Caddo
I’m familiar with that blackness too, Ethel… sometimes, like facing a monster in a nightmare – when I confront it, it softens and disappears. I hope it does that for you too – before dinner. I hope it stops seeping into your room altogether….
I know him well
Thanks for these comments. Blackness doesn’t show his face too often. Ethel
No but it can be tiring working at keeping him from your door. Be happy and may the light be with you xxxxx
Acceptance rather than fear. Certainly the best way to deal with it; as you are wise enough to know. As these comments reveal,, we are all kindred.
Thank you Ben Naga. Love Ethel
Simple but so suggestive of those dark moods we are glad to be rid of sooner rather than later.
I must make the universe simple. Love Ethel
Divine and provocative. Wonderfully done.
Thank you. Love Ethel