February 2018 – Page 3

over chips and drinks
the sounds of friendship filter
through my old screen door
–
dark windows-
piles of chips
shufflled cards

our fingers entwined-
the dusky blush of daybreak
mirrored in your face
–
the rising sun-
my finger traces
along your lips

going to bed late
dreading the dawn for who knows
what the day may bring
–
blowing snow-
the coarse growl
of a passing train

walking on eggshells
at the door I stop and turn-
you’re watching me leave
–
predawn-
hard and cold
the bedroom floor

shadows of chimneys
painted on the rising smoke
by the setting sun-
–
curls of smoke-
your lipstick on
my cigarette

tufts of rabbit fur
strewn across the forest floor
beneath the owls nest
–
burning sands-
the condor casts
a broad shadow

stallions in the sky
rearing out of boiling clouds
thunder through the night
–
late fall snow-
wild horses fade
into the woods

lighting up the sky-
the glow of paper lanterns
adrift in the night
–
evening stroll-
the dance
of fireflies

lighting up the sky-
the glow of paper lanterns
adrift in the night
–
evening stroll-
the dance
of fireflies

your face in the glass
its hard to believe were just
an ocean apart
–
cold winds-
across the table
a sideways glance