To a good home

The sun coming down

over the crossroads

throws a golden light across the dust.

The wooden fences create shadow patterns of crosshatch.

I left town before light and now as the cool air melts away

and I notice the mud on my boots

my mind drifts back to you.

I picture you still in bed,

not waking at this hour, not yet,

missing the sunrise but smiling softly in your dreams.

I will never forget how we would talk in the mornings,

You would tell me your dreams and you’d laugh.

But I’ve had to leave, and when you hold someone else

and tell them your dreams

make sure they listen

and treat you softly

May kindness rain on you in torrents.

 

Advertisements

One comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s