Stained

Seeing this blue sky,
Outside… I hide
Neath the duvet, the one with the small stain on
Where was it from?
I sigh. Oh yes. A catalogue.
Prob'ly cost too much.
But they usually do.
I lift a corner of the cover and peek outside
I look out the window, I'm hiding behind the curtain
I'm not sure if they can see me, the man or his dog,
But the stain? From the catalogue duvet? Maybe something I ate,
A crumb,
Missed the plate
Why do you tut when I say that?
I sigh and pull the stained catalogue duvet over me
I want to write, I yearn to say something
To someone, somewhere,
But does anyone care?
I yawn.
A dog barks outside and I wish I could try today.
Too tired to get up, I think about the small stain again
Is it Lilt?
Should I have tried harder to remove it?
Rumpled papers, a crumpled Rumplestiltskin on the floor
I think it's looking at me…
Prodding me, Guiding Me
Urging me to write Something… To Someone… Somewhere…
Today I'll hide from the sky. Maybe tomorrow I'll get up.
I wish I knew what that stain was.