What to do
with what might’ve
when what is
is what’s left
crumbs on plate
after everything’s ate
morsels of memories
a dry icing
around the edges
hardly makes sense
Cup
A simple cup
dipped into barrel
font or cistern
brought to lips
and slowly tasted
scald or soothing
depends not on
the liquid but
degree of parched
for those lonely
lips seek most
Place
That place
you wish
you were
I am
those sounds
that you
wish that
you’d hear
I’ve heard
winged dreams
floating on
the clouds
of silence
and stars
like opals
gives peace
this place
Holiday
My sleeping mind
is more forgiving
bringing you back
like some sweater
from the trunk
in the attic
pleasant they are
these memories skip
gleefully and erotic
but day comes
back you go
to cuddle with
the moth balls
and holiday decorations
Breezy
Even morning warm
tee and shorts
on the balcony
for our tea
and buttery scones
scents from South
carried on breeze
as summers ease
cups and plates
put in sink
as clothes trail
to the sound
of the shower
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 