Noon

At noon, I licked sweet white frosting from my fingertip,
having already forgotten the little grease burn, 
from earlier, on my palm.

Later on,  I will find you sitting at the glass-topped table outside,
in your favorite teak wood chair with the green cushions.
I will run the same finger through your familiar curls,

under a half-stirred sky of light and shadow.

Comments

hedgewitch said…
Lucent, subtle, intensely beautiful writing--with descriptions that feel like a breeze on a hot cheek, especially the half-stirred(in so many ways)sky.
TexWisGirl said…
beautiful. sweet and simple and lovely.
Sioux Roslawski said…
"...half-stirred sky" is brilliant. And beautiful.
HermanTurnip said…
What's funny is I burnt my fingers on a hot coal while camping last week. It's funny how sensitive the burn site became, and I can imagine the heightened sensitivity of a burned finger through a lock of hair...
Sherry Blue Sky said…
Beautiful, and how I would love to have a room of any sort that was all glass and light like that!!!!!!!!!
Anonymous said…
if that's noon - what's the rest of the day like? ~
recognition of little moments are indicators of a romantic heart
Kerry O'Connor said…
This is a perfect sevenling.. all the little components that coalesce to make the whole. How often do we miss them in the rush?
G-Man said…
I'm trying to imagine which curls your fingers are running thru...
Anonymous said…
{sigh} lovely!
Maude Lynn said…
This stirs every sense. Beautiful.