I wish, I wish

Anne Hayward
The Ides of March

I wish I could
sit in the afternoon sun
with a book and a mug
and feel the breeze on my neck
and breathe the soft autumn smell
of damp leaves and ripe apples
and hear the subdued flap
of white linen drying
instead of
the hurry of emails,
and anxious students
and hasty academics
who rush past
to lectures.

I wish I could...

but that was another life
and I know in my heart
that the sun did not always shine.