I sit here, perched in the chair.
Gazing out the window, at the falling air.
As the drips drop down the oak yonder,
I envision the face of beauty and wonder;
Will I be the proprietor once again
Of a beauty once had, but now urbane?
Tears from above run down the boulevard
Into the gutter, forever downward.
The clouds are ominous up above,
But there are ripples in the sky, my love.
Behind the wall there’s a light that struggles
To break free and reveal its warmth.
Better days are ahead, but we must wait-
Only in the palm of the sun can we snuggle.
July 8, 2009