July 27, 2017

KISSES FROM THE PORCH

KISSES FROM THE PORCH
When dusk softens spring greens to gray
and I shut one eye as I climb the steps
on my return from yielding crop-filled fields,
I can see you rocking through the haze of time,
your face beaming in the half light-dark.
Without words, Grandma, you say again
how much you love me. In the bleeding of day,
The absence of sun and technicolors dimmed,
you toss your hand to me, a paper-thin wave,
fingers set free of kisses buzzing deathless love.
#

No comments:

Post a Comment