Later, soon, tomorrow…
always risky
putting off
what the heart
longs to sing,
to say…
our lights, eternal,
but earthtime measured
in sand and dust
and strings Atropos cuts,
footprints tide-washed away.
So let’s stop
and sit awhile,
my friend.
How have you been?
Kettle whistles,
Columbian grounds,
deep sofa,
phones down.
Let’s wrap ourselves
in the comfort
of the softest colors
of love,
quilting our story.
Let’s stay too long.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise