Frames of lighthouses and oceans move;
the sun crawls orange across the room.
Split curtains cut the bleeding light;
red cardinals sing sharply outside.
-
The inside is alive with music--
barefoot trills, kitchen acoustics;
dancing, with dinner on the stove;
water leaks crack the ceiling above.
-
When the sun sets and the silver looms,
glowing owls and coyotes croon.
Dreams assume, and blue beams lurk;
buried memories awaken her.
-
Hiding crickets chirp their symphonies,
the high moon stares back, patiently.
Wisps of wind spin thick midnight air
between folded hands, whispered prayers.
-
The yellow porch light lures tattered moths,
bright starry eyes, out, staring off;
far away, near the lucky sea,
but sleeping under the same moon tree.
-
Quiet shifting, dripping coffee brews;
the sun creeps new across the room.
Breezes kiss lace curtains aside,
wind chimes charming on the porch outside.
-
The inside comes alive with music,
barefoot trills, kitchen acoustics;
wishing, with breakfast on the stove;
water leaks crack the ceiling above.
About the Creator
Sara Wynn
Poetry is my language, and Earth is my playground.
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