The early sky
Is grey like
Tepid murky water
Of freshly bathed
Dusty dirty children
It covers everything
Like aging dust
Except for silky
Ribbons of pink
Hanging on horizon
Like fresh negligees
Hung to dry
Distant mid summer
Honey suckle wafts
Sweet delicate fragrance
Like invisible clouds
Of debutantes passing-by
Coffee for me
Coffee for you
Sit patiently steaming
Upon dawns arrival
Stumbling you sit
Next to me
Smiling I think
Like the sun
That is missing
This Charlotte morn
