Reid@YWP

Just two minor chords 

resonating in dark rooms.  

Something new has bloomed. 

I dreamed

I was the sea

On the sandy coast

Blue and calm

Washing onto the beach

The early morning sun

Glittering off the soft waves

Peacefully

A few early risers walking

Or running

Maybe, 

like steak, 

it needs to marinate. 

Maybe, 

like soup, 

it needs to simmer. 

Or, maybe, 

Love is an abstract painting: 

Colors convey a feeling but not an idea 

the frame barely holds it together and the lines 

trail outward, repeat, and redouble 

Spring is a blossom crushed 

Unbeknownst to you, in your clammy palm. 

It’s a season made of glass, 

Fragile, disintegrating 

Like the April showers filling 

Cracks in the pavement.