To sink in.
I do not ask to be plunged
Into a snuggly toed cocoon.
The way I feel
When I eat that muffin.
I want to feel it
When I want to feel it.
Whirled into your world
Was not where I wanted to be.
Even though I had felt it before
Then was manufactured naturally.
To be reeled inside
My own memory yet not by my own beckoning.
Sitting on the stairs, knees hunched up
Listening to the rain bashing down
on the overhead windowpane.
And feeling comforted.
Even though it was not unpleasant
The speed at which it evaporated off the page, up my nostrils
And hunkered down uninvited beside my internal fireplace
My kneejerk reaction told me it did not possess the purity
Of organically melded mood.
Maybe it was selfish but I felt it almost an act of self-preservation.
So I had to stop
Reading your poem.