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Amelia: poetry after breakfast at noon.

by Andrew S Adams

you brought me a bottle
of dr. pepper to assist
me in whatever i may be
saying to you;
you were always good like
that.

you're washing out the waffle batter
in the sink as i slip over
words to describe
once again
trying in futility
to describe this
little thing called love;
as the whiteness of light
outside beckons to us.

let's go outside and play in
the snow, we can lay down on
the blanket it leaves and
stare up, catching snowflakes
in our mouth for dessert

and then as we wrap ourselves
around each other, share a kiss
in the mid-day sun--

you're doing the housework while
i fantasize about romancing the
snow with you;
you're burning your hand on the
waffle iron
as i stop writing
and walk over to you
to force you to run it
under a tap.

11/25/2005

Posted on 11/25/2005
Copyright © 2022 Andrew S Adams

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Leslie Ann Eisenberg on 11/28/05 at 05:37 AM

why, oh, why, does this conjure images of a 5th floor walk up bachelor apartment? could it be the after noon? the doctor pepper. the hopeful dance of snowflakes on tongue? that "little thing called love;" lots of lovely sounds and fragments here...i slip over words.. romancing the snow sweet. PK

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