Roots

Monday, February 12, 2024

Untitled

The moon slipped from her forehead
Slid down her hair
The sun jumped in from the window
And into her eyes
He waltzed in them
Left and right he swam
Until she had to open them
"Good morning sweet," he said
The world was a wonderous burst of warm, cream, white
Cradling a zest
Zesty like citrusy oranges
Of excitement to come and a to-do list
She smiled back sweetly and hugged the new day
-
Feb 12, 2017
(Thank you, Facebook Memories!)