Monday, June 18, 2012

Outside My Window

Trees dance
outside my window
in the same wind
that carries your perfume
into the deepest breaths
of our first morning together.

Beneath the yellow sun
and too blue sky,
quaking leaves
are your hands
the day they reached out
to draw my face to yours.

There is a swaying
just beyond the glass
like silent lovers leaning
into their knowing
everything between them.

Trees dance
outside my window.
I miss you.

The Broadkill Review (a print-only journal) - June 2012

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