Pretty Much Done

 I write what I think are poems every now and then.

This is one that just poured out on the yellow pad I always keep on the dining table.

That tablet has pages that usually get shredded.

I think this one is OK.

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"Pretty much done: is what you may be

Pretty much done: when all you seem to see

Is the book, the bottle, the bed and the key

Pretty much done: the key to the door, or maybe infinity

Pretty much done: whatever it may be

But, pretty much done can’t replace

The feeling of a face

As it brushes yours

Pretty much done: the other shores

Pretty much done: the day you first saw the center of the earth sea

Pretty much done: that vision seemed, then, to be infinity

Infinity rhymes nicely with key and be and see so let it be

I guess that's ok; we shall see

Pretty much done:  why did you cry that day when you saw the sea?

You cried that day on the vantage of the sea because it was you that day

And there was me.

Pretty much done.

Is what a poet would say

About this brief metric essay

Pretty much done."