Waking

Out the window,
at the end of the drive
is the garbage bin
that is not mine.
And it is no secrete
that it holds not much more
than a rotting pumpkin and
a broken comb that has been.
Forgotten for years.

"Carpe diem"- my mug says
like there is something new to live for.
Emptied of the coffee,
then tossed in the refuse
I laugh at the irony.

Afterwords
I walk the drive
back to dress,
back to eat,
stopping to pluck some tree's berries
like I'm harvesting old dreams.

Time to seize the day.