The Porcelain Vase

The porcelain vase stands solitary on the glass table,
Basking in the glow of the beautiful morning sun,
It stands still just next to the phone cable,
While I wake up in the morning my errands to run.

While I dash from my room and into the shower,
Prepare for the meeting I have in an hour,
Eat my breakfast while wearing my trousers,
Fly out of the house like an ungrateful lover.

The porcelain vase stands solitary on the glass table,
Taking in what the day has in store,
Stays put in its place near the phone cable,
While in the office I keep fighting for more.

Between boardroom meetings and meetings on the phone,
Watching as tempers flare beneath polite tones,
Selling selling selling I seem to be in the zone,
The day ends, while I work late never in a hurry to get home,

The porcelain vase stands solitary on the glass table,
Watching the sunset on a lovely eve,
Right there in its place next to the phone cable,
While I leave my office to go rave.

While my friends and I catch a couple of drinks,
And lie to each other and give toasts, glass clinks,
As we try to understand what the female mind thinks,
As we hold each other’s heads while we vomit in the sinks.

The porcelain vase stands solitary on the glass table,
Enjoying the still of night as quiet as a mouse,
Still it stands right next to the phone cable,
While I stumble and stagger into the house.

As I noisily make my way to the kitchen and eat some bread,
As I keep telling myself how I can’t feel my head,
As I clamber up the stairs as opposed to softly tread,
As I black out the the floor just inches short of my bed,

The porcelain vase stands still on the glass table,
Listening to the silent pitter patter of the nightly rain,
It stands as always next to the phone cable,
Waiting for morning to watch me do it again.

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