May 22, 2024
Passing plane overhead and I
Feel a light breeze on my skin
A bird etched a path through the sky
And so does my evening begin
The cars, they pass, and the birds, they call
Your hand I’ll grasp before the words will fall
The smoke will fill the space, our lungs
Our lips will meet, our souls, our tongues
Our candied kiss, with your breath of mint
This love exists, in this air, and print.
“How was your day,” I softly question
“…well, actually now that you mention…”
And so the conversation hits like flavored ice
The sweet, sticky cold dripping down my finger
Sitting through the heat baring down heavy like a weight
Our voices carry, they last, they linger.
Leanna 