beyond the blue dawn,
the stop lights, houses, traffic–
pink mountain sunrise
it’s like their love poems–
so cheesy; adolescent;
(in their second tongue)
Silverstein turned down
so they could find their own muse
and make my Wednesday
they practice reading,
words chopped by heavy accents;
beautiful and sharp
i can see clearly
the pink peaks; hear soft words lost
behind busy streets
it’s the glimpse of hope
caught in this lens, in their voices
that’s worth stopping for
all patience is lost
in last moments before bed
when i need quiet
like i need to breathe;
and the moment i grab her,
we’ve all gone too far.
days filled with backtalk
backfire in waning light
where i lose myself
gentle goodnight kiss
only mimics my remorse
as tears touch her eyes
forgiveness now saved
for dawn’s awakening touch
as gentle as dreams
sometimes small spring signs
like leafing aspen, orchids
are all a day needs
trapped by sore muscles
night breaks through holes in the wall
to tell me my truth
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