In the darkest of blue
Looking out on my patio
Through old vertical blinds
The umbrella is in disrepair,
Along with six weather beaten chairs.
Things are different now
Under a quarter moon’s
Fraction,
To drown the sound
Of quiet’s intrusion
I go to my computer
And type,
All I hear is the tapping
Of my fingers as they hit
Each key,
Wishing you were sitting
Next to me.
Through my cloth
To my skin,
The evidence is clear
You’ve left your imprint
Of love shared
In this space,
Like wearable art
To be seen,
To be felt,
Inside folded pages
Of love letters, hidden
Collective thoughts,
You make me swing,
Rise to the creme.
