And in the
Dreamy morning hours
I felt a
Butterfly or perhaps
Hummingbird alight my
Lips still dreaming
I imagined a
Prince or pauper
Waking me as
Delicately as dew
On tulips as
Wanton as thirst
As tender as
Down and as
Tickling as seltzer
Brushing it away
I awoke to
Your eyes smiling
Good morning love
Again this morning
Pewter skies envelopes
My color like
A washcloth absorbing
Fresh blood leaving
Me a ghostly
Pallor of grey
Everything is muted
Like school children
Shushed by nuns
Hoping for the
Sun’s recess allowing
Glee and abandonment
Yet here I
Lay staring up
At gray grey
Much less than
Gay this day
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 