Tuesday’s dizzy quick-unpick,
first fix Monday’s foibles;
fill the calendar,
don’t forget to order dinner!
(And get that darling Dior dress!)

Before it’s Wednesday;
Friday looms and all the stitches
that stay my strictly bound ways
start to slip and I wonder what
is puzzling me:
I’m trying to find a needle
in the hectic haystack of my mind.

The weary, early light of Sunday’s timid rays
catch the sheen of a tarnished, tumbled thimbleful of hope;
I softly place my spectacles on the ledge
and bring my teacup to the garden,
drinking in forgiving green.

©Cindy Taylor 2008

“The World is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste to our powers;
Little we see in nature that is ours”
William Wordsworth



  1. Cin
    I always hesitate to comment on poetry. I don’t really undertand it very well, but I like this piece very much. I found a rhythm in it, reading it, that at first glance I would have missed.

  2. I think this is one of your best (or at least of the ones I’ve read)! I love: a needle in the hectic haystack of my mind. Great! Wow! *bows and scrapes in awe*

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