Minou at Play
I try to keep my mind on sober paths,
But thoughts of you intrude at any time
And soberness no longer holds appeal.
Why limit life to what is suitable,
When antic play is waiting in the wings?
No sense of purpose can compete with this—
The dishes left undone, the bed unmade,
The bills unpaid, left for another day—
Everything abandoned for the moment
And everything recovered in our play.
Though some are born with freedom in their veins
And never can be anchored to dull days,
There are the less inspired (for instance, me)
Who benefit from being with a mate
Like you, who helps them cultivate that sense
Of sheer delight which is its own reward.
©2016 Michael Fraley
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