Not quite,
but close.
A shade off,
a soft blur,
Almost there,
but waiting,
somewhere between
yes and maybe.
Ish
a gentle pause
that lets you linger
just a little longer.
Posted in response to the challenge Writing Workshop: Free Verse Poetry.
I am from coffee beans,
from bitter brews and cracked porcelain mugs.
I am from the steamed soy eggs,
the scent that clings to mornings
like an old, Chinese dwelling.
Lights aglow on Christmas morn,
Laughter and joy in moments reborn.
Love fills the air as stories are shared,
A day of warmth, with hearts unprepared.
In Amherst's shade, where whispers grow,
You stitched the seams of all we know,
A bee's soft hum, a slant of light,
Became the fabric of your night.
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