Because mornings emerge from misty bayous
and moss that hangs and touches the sky-
a reflection in glass.
Because the thickness in the air wraps
the sunlight and holds it close.
The moments are a drawl, and a legacy of
it waits between each drawing breath,
lingers between each morning glory
and rain lily-
a sweet kiss from a drowsy boo
and its momentary entanglements.
Even before the first note sounds
the blues, there is beauty conjured in the
slim to none spell-
and it is some kind of wonderful,too.
A camber in her first and last embrace
and welling tears I wipe against my face.
Lingered time, that passes under breath
and desires to leave are changing less and less.
Words do not exist to tell this tale,
just kisses, fumbling hands, and hearts impaled.
snow melting abandon
meant to carry away
the weep of wintry
drops that melted
from ice gripped
with steadfast assurances.
each drip an escapee
prone to wander
and feel its own
way, with only the sound
of sequent kin
that silence with distance.
lead to some outcome,
to a gathering of likeness
that feeds the living
the dissolute elements
of the dead.