8 thoughts on “Poem-

  1. Standing in my kitchen,looking through the blinds, the morning is waking. In the parking lot each car is cast in its factory hue, the chrome, the silver, the glass give up the darkness on surface at a time. Coffee’s brewing. Laundry spinning. Teeth brushed. There’s too little time for salutations each day. Thanks for writing, for giving me pause to look up and watch mine arrive.

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