surely
was ours.
and now with a clean slate
we imagine
things like northern lights.
and mosquito bites.
and winks
and flights.
and i'd like to sew my own
clothes
waiting for you to come
home.
in the heat
of a hated loathsome july
waiting for
october to come home.
strawberry kisses coming home.
walking down a little
main street making us happy.
scuffing my feet
along in little lace up shoes.
being rested with
linen
like the song and california
wine
like the song.
1 comment:
I enjoy your writing very much.
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