Hour drive together.
Door slams, peace abraded.
Swollen boy eyes, try once again,
He goes his way, I go mine.
For both, salve.
He’ll sprawl a few hours on crusty couch,
Amid arms, legs of other 15 year olds.
Enough joy to shout the shadows away.
Today.
Me: right place, wrong shoes.
Water laps, birdsong, mosquito thrum unabated,
Breeze dances green before my eyes.
To each, salve.
(cc) Karen G. Johnston
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment