Saturday

The couch hurts my lower back
on a lazy Saturday.
I forget to do enriching things like
writing letters, reading or guitar.
The watercolor kit sits in its case
since we bought it before vacation.
The paints are in their tubes,
ochre, cadmium, and Payne's grey.
They are bored, with sore backs too,
unable to get out and about, mingle,
and make something of themselves.
Why do I miss it, this wide world
full of the ingredients for creativity?

My second cup of coffee
inches off the table in despair,
and as it explodes,
the guitar in the corner
throws out a sympathetic twang.