Inspiration has been in short supply the last couple of days. This is Friday’s sole poem (no pun intended):

Friday’s fish is gone
it’s time for the wine
and an open journal on my lap

Cinnamon and raspberries
a quiet finish to the glass
describing uncertain feelings

I still taste the ketchup
but only slightly
adding a hint of sweetness to the wine

Which is fine
now that the fish is gone
and can no longer be overpowered

(6 November 2015—posted November 8)