Time like a river ebb and flow they said it won’t rain but it does seem likely the distinction of morning becoming more and more opaque and drowsy warm bedding regaining its succor half-asleep I turn my thoughts to you always always a comfort a bauble for my den
Morning breaks like a rare china plate with guilt and marvel at what cannot be undone something that was years in the making and was years in the saving is now only was the sun spills out its golds and pinks recklessly it fills the freeway softens suburbs honeys mountains but only for a minute or two and then it’s only daylight and business as usual
OPTIONAL POETRY 