Comfort Zone

[71degrees]

Her smile sagged
the same way a crooked
painting forces you to notice it.
 
I watched her relax while I ate egg salad
and mulled over the days business;
a leaf landed in her hair as she napped
on the bench beneath a nearby oak.
 
The air was crisp and her mouth was a kettle at tea time;
I wanted a cup.
 
Lunchtime ended, and I was late getting back to work.

I really like this. The details are real. Wish you would have offered her half the sandwich. Leaf color? If the air is crisp, it must be autumn. Why the ping pong match w/all the pronouns? (Her, you, I…??? Is there a need for this?) Black kettle or silver? Did you want the whole cup or just a sip? After all, you're late. Just thoughts as I read….the poem is wonderful. I was there w/you.