Having her headphones on
And being far gone
In music’s sound
She perceives nothing profound.
But there is nothing profound
To see
In the pound, pound, pound
Of he.
It being over
She retrieves her pullover
And other things.
She sings
Her feet
Tap to a discordant beat
And with headphones still in place
She departs leaving a slight trace
Of perfume
And a discarded hairband
In the bedroom.
The latter he does not understand.
K Morris - Poet 
Reblogged this on Dream Big, Dream Often.
Many thanks for sharing.
You are welcome!
Fascinating.
Thank you.
Reblogged this on Ink Space and commented:
I really love this! Made me want to read more.
Many thanks for your kindness in liking and sharing my poem. I am delighted that you want to read more of my work. Kind regards, Kevin
I loved this and wish I knew the story behind it. But I got the gist of it! And of course I’m going to be pondering the headband …
Many thanks for your kind words Laura. I am delighted that you enjoyed reading my poem.
Kind regards, Kevin
You’re welcome! I’m taking a break from my own writing tonight to check in on other writers. I don’t usually write much poetry, so this is a treat!
Thanks Laura. Do you have a website where I can see your writing? Best, Kevin
Yes, but there aren’t too many poems there. It’s owlinthewood.com. I mostly write about the environment and climate change, but every now and then I sneak in an essay or two. Thanks for asking!
Thanks, Laura. I will check out your blog.
All the best, Kevin
Fantastic bit of poetry… and an interesting contemplation we are left with at the end… the discarded headband… like a zen koan. — Stephen
Thank you for your kind words and your interpretation of my poem. Kind regards, – Kevin
Pingback: PYM Summary 3/21 Part One | Go Dog Go Café