_____?_____
Guest Poems > sunny
_____?_____
I look over my shoulder,
curious to see if the wind has again blown up the tarp.
As predictable as the sarcastic,
spite laden dialogue of a cheap,
soap opera maiden,
you slowly stride, pushing the carriage every day.
I might see you across the weed filled basin,
as I watch the windblown objects tumble by.
I might see you as people retrieve the objects deposited at the base of the fence.
I catch glimpses of you and the baby making your rounds.
I await the coming canopy of leaves, the call of the frogs,
and the possibility of possibilities.
While I sip the last drops of my cold, sweet coffee,
listening to March's harsh winds blowing away the 28th day of February,
thinking of the Flying Dutchman and Judgment Day,
looking over my shoulder; you slowly disappear.
© Sunshine 96