The kitchen floor felt dirty under my feet
Standing at the sink waiting for the toast to pop.
I put down my coffee and went to the hall closet for the dustpan.
I crouched down on the floor to sweep.
There, along with some crumbs
Were two tiny black metal springs.
I live alone.
No one else has been here for days.
For the life of me
I could not imagine
Where they came from
But then I couldn't help but wonder
If they weren't from me somehow;
Any way you look at it
That I'm losing it.