Tuesday, March 6, 2018

Morning Fog

Last night you came
in a Picasso dream
after all these years
feeling your breath
against my neck
in the silence
before awakening
four o’clock
my mind scattered
surreal visions
in dark shadows
suddenly drifting
back to sleep
anxiously awaiting
the next sequence
to begin or to remember
when you were
here in the morning

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