Content – A Sonnet 

I awake, brew and pour coffee.
Corn bread is baking; a tequila sunrise calls.
Good music; words for a poem dance in my head.
Plans with good friends, dinner, a movie.
A warm home while others do without.
Yesterday there was ice on the ground.
A man in rags, babbling to himself
walked past my car; I would babble, too.
What is missing; not hope, nor dreams, but who
am I to talk of love? A therapist said,
”You missed the boat.” I read it
in an old journal, in black and white.
To sleep, perchance to dream.
I do.