Downstairs


It is early in the morning,
and the house makes
its own familiar noises.
The cat has come downstairs
to keep me company
by the fire,
or for a change of scenery
while she sleeps.

It is nameless,
this familiar sadness
where I feel so at home.
Greater than the reasons
I create to explain
for all those wise whys.
The shadows from the fire
dance across the ceiling,
new reasons after the fact,
a change of scenery,
while my cat naps.


--XineAnn