I hear the rasping sound of a grasping salesman
Who uninvited, insinuates himself
Down my phone.
I see the greasy residue of unrestrained dripping
Leaving their snails trails
I NEED FAIRY LIQUID!
I smell the warm sunlight woven into the worn strands
Of a tapestry cushion
I taste the sharp acid taste that touches my jaw
in a wincing way.
I feel the sunny crackling of old age
Biting into what is left of my youth
I am alive
Lynda M Roberts 2020
Images from Here