Ritual

It is not the position,
not the money,
not the opportunity.
It is breakfast
with my steaming tea,
my rolls,
my periodicals,
my wife pouring, buttering, keeping quiet,
my shower, towel, shirt and tie,
my selection of that tie and
that tie's winding,
my good-bye.

poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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