There is something blessedly comforting
In the check that comes at the end of a meal.
True, it is one you must pay; its inevitability
Absolute.
Yet even so,
With all its monetary requirements,
There it still sits.
Never a flutter
of anger,
Never a cloud
of concealed hate.
The bill has no soul, much like that
which satisfies it.
The check never changes-
it rarely surprises.
Rather, it waits,
Peacefully dozing,
Until settled and one leaves.
Yes, there is a comfort
In that which never changes,
Even if it costs.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related