￼ Hours without forethought Shushing ocean tempered calm Moon licks the clouds dry Those nights watching the stars wake Your hand resting in my own
￼ Rose petals falling In cascades of pink and red Confetti moments Memories of special days And one above all others
Maroon A warning Sunset signal fired Our days are done Exploded
Empty coffee mugs litter the tables, tidemarks of brown sludge marking their once fullness. Someone plays flamenco music through a poor quality speaker; it lacks the passion of a real performance. A lone girl stands behind the counter tapping her toes, her fingers out of sync on the desktop. She patiently awaits my order with […]
I didn’t give in, I faltered.
I remember her on bad days.
Saturday is the fresh breath of morning that Sunday can never hope to be. Sunday is the bleary-eyed midday that Saturday can only dream about. The week days can’t comprehend the thoughts of the other two because they’ve too much to be getting on with. The nights don’t care either way.
A flash of white on a drizzly day, I stopped to stare. The thing twirled and whirled against a backdrop of gloom. Unbothered by the day’s misery it rose majestic, released on updrafts, with it my soul. I thought it a dove but it was just a scrap of paper.
Atmosphere of oppressive gloom, Lightless is the day; Cars blink in headlight necessity, The school children seeming lost. Summer, departed, a confusion of season And zodiac signs. I watch it all from the same seat of the same coffee house, With the same drink in the same place, An uncaring smile upon my lips.