She Eventually Listened
A wise move on her behalf
She woke from a dream of love and honey,
A smile on her face reminiscent of the dream she just ended,
Stretching luxuriously along the length of her bed,
Feeling well-slept and perfectly splendid.
**
Then her mood drops suddenly and she sits up with a frown,
A sense of doom revolves in her stomach and moves into her chest,
A gut feeling of sheer dread moves her to tears,
Unexplainable and frightening, but prophetic she guessed.
**
She gazes around the room checking her line of view,
She listens hard for any unusual sound,
She feels the air with her divine senses,
But no danger, no fear-inducing reason, can be found.
**
She chides herself and feels terribly foolish,
Pastes a smile back on her face and leaps from her bed,
Giggling in glee at her cat’s astounded expression,
She voices, “Catnip, it’s a new day. No room for fear, I’ll only accept excitement instead.”
**
She prances from the room, heading for the kitchen,
Breakfast and coffee the first order of the day,
That sinking feeling lodged deep within her chest, rising,
“Be still, you blasted feeling. I’ll not let you take my happiness away.”
**
She continues on with her mission to make the best of what is,
But as she enters the kitchen she freezes in shock,
A cold wall of air shivers against her skin,
And that gut feeling now feels like a leadened rock.
**
She shrugs it off again, determination her strength,
But as she looks around she sees Catnip watching her with a look of dread,
It’s at this look she makes a monumental decision,
And she whispers under her breath, “I’m just going to give in and head back to bed.”
This poem was written in response to a prompt from Lodestar Gazette (Medium publication).
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.
Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insight
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Keep reading
More stories from Colleen Millsteed and writers in Poets and other communities.
making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskarabout 9 hours ago in Feast
Comments (4)
Oh no, I wonder what would have happened if she didn't decide to go to bed. Loved your poem!
That's me! (Without the jumping out of bed & excitement part.)
Wonderful & loved this fun poem!!!💕♥️♥️
Nice ending