The rooster calls from behind the veil
The city stuffs the white sheets of sleep into its shadows
The streets shine with caution and opportunity
The woman walks, her mouth filled with hope
The tumblers sit empty, dirty, forgotten on the counter.
The breeze inhales the still life of for ever
The prairie lies in wait, eager to pounce upon a shadow
The parasols slowly yawn open
The boy on the stoop tightens his crisp shoestrings
The tumblers, an afterthought, are cleaned until a shine resides upon their walls
The sleepy progress of the sun displays its plumage
The unbearable shadows of dusk arrive
The flowers bid a salutation to the waning sunlight
The smells of evening drift in like shadows through open windows
The tumblers are frozen and filled to the brim then sucked upon
The royalty of the sky meet at the black round table
The streets mourn for yesterday
The depths of this bed live for ever
The people walk down the shores of sleep and into the seas of dreams
The tumblers are set empty onto the counter.
~Will you go hunting for the marshmallow coast with me?
Amor,
Digress.
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