With a large spoon in hand, he noisily scrapes <br />along the bottom of his breakfast cereal bowl, <br />a 40-year old habit he knows irritates me, <br /> <br />but for whatever reason he cannot break. <br /> <br />After our luncheon meal, he eases himself into <br />his lounge chair, <br />lights up a cigar and continues to slide it <br />in and out of his mouth. <br /> <br />Why and when did he start doing this? <br /> <br />At dinner, he eats with obvious pleasure his favorite <br />home-cooked meal I automatically prepared for him <br /> <br />and he fills the air with a rush of words to cover <br />my silence. <br /> <br />Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are played out in <br />3/4 time. <br /> <br />I used to hear the music.<br /><br />Elke Nigro<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-used-to-hear-the-music/
