The sky started
As gray as
The rinse bowl
For an artists
Brushes absent of
Color containing many
A parasoles opened
Casting opaque shadows
Everything is muted
As though time
Has turned down
Its own volume
Sleepiness persists here
Daybreak takes effort
Unlike Christmas morn
Even birdsongs lay
Absent like a
Cut telephone line
All I hear
Is my own
Sip sip sip
And grass growing
You do love
These cloudy morns
They blanket you
From your woes
Like ear muffs
Warding off frostbite
They protect you
From the world
What I like
About gray days
Is that they
Just like you
Will eventually shine
Out both come
From your dens
Ready to start
So with you
I do agree
Sometimes we need
These sullen days
If for nothing
More than tomorrow
I awoke talking
To the strangers
In my dreams
Having a chat
Explaining my life
Why is that
I lay wondering
Perhaps it’s you
Who I have
Not yet met
If it is
You’re incredibly charming
Like a locket
Shiny and new
Holding a memory
Wearing it always
And never forgotten
When we meet
I will remember
These early chats
And remind you
Laugh we will
Have we shall
No longer dreams
Instead now dreaming
I am now
I will say
The way you
See the world
The glasses you
Use are different
Than mine so
Different that the
World you see
I can see
Simply by talking
To you you
Have opened a
Door that I
Never knew even
Existed until I
Met you and
Invited me in
And for that
This for you
In a jar
I keep coins
From far-off places
And times past
Like a merchant
Searching for change
I rummage through
Them seeking memories
There’s this one
And that one
Then the other
Until I find
With my fingers
The only one
Which carries me
Back to Santorini
Azure blue seas
The white buildings
Cropped like terrine
Nests hugging cliffs
Of wafting salty
Humid light breezes
And the suns
Warmth on face
Of mopeds screaming
Across cobblestone bumpty-bump
And the crimson
Moustaches of deep
Dark red wine
Such a time
I now remember
So long ago
Only in Santorini
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 