Canteloupe sky
behind a palm tree
jostles my eyes
awake. The remnant
of last night's disappointment
shrinks as the sun
peeks from behind
the fronds. A new day
winks. My eyes fill
with possibilities,
again. The fragrance
of hope is a sunrise.
It's just too bright.
I close my eyes,
wait for you to wake up.
I become less and less.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Sunday Scribblings: The Rest of the Story
The Rest of the Story
The clock is ticking
seconds away
one after another.
I try to catch the clicks
but they dissipate
into the past
faster than my hands
can grab. I've been
up early waiting
for the sunrise
but my living room
remains gray.
I could be cooking
breakfast, making
something special
for my husband.
I could be starting
the laundry.
I could be updating
my blog. Instead,
I sit on the couch
in a rainstorm of lost
seconds...oh, wait,
I just snatched
a few and they turned
into words, like pearls
that I'm stringing
together, a necklace
of not-so-wasted time
on a sunless morning.
I fasten it around my neck.
I'll wear theses moments
all day. The clock ticks on.
The clock is ticking
seconds away
one after another.
I try to catch the clicks
but they dissipate
into the past
faster than my hands
can grab. I've been
up early waiting
for the sunrise
but my living room
remains gray.
I could be cooking
breakfast, making
something special
for my husband.
I could be starting
the laundry.
I could be updating
my blog. Instead,
I sit on the couch
in a rainstorm of lost
seconds...oh, wait,
I just snatched
a few and they turned
into words, like pearls
that I'm stringing
together, a necklace
of not-so-wasted time
on a sunless morning.
I fasten it around my neck.
I'll wear theses moments
all day. The clock ticks on.
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