This morning erupts.
A sigh of melted orange
bleeds its warmth into the sky at daybreak,
yawning as the night recedes
and longdead stars are winked
into oblivion.

I sip my decaf chai and wonder
watching birds enjoy our cherries,
if summer will ever stop bringing me this.
If one day all the honeysuckle blossoms will be grey
the iced tea warm
the laughter wilted, bitter.

Another day has run through my lips
and my fingers,
has sweated its way through my skin
has dripped me with kisses and words from my lover
with smiles from my mother
And melody brewed from Billie's aching mouth
into my waiting cup.

The sun sleeps now,
her back to me
as I listen for crickets that sing
beyond my window.

06/20/2005

Posted on 06/21/2005
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia