well slept in Sunday
so rich, so dense
I carry them to
This Tuesday morning
Gurgling my phlegm
From cigarettes stale
From a long lost love
I ache and ail
A boy, rather a persona
I loved and wanted
Came to me
In my first cup
of dark brown tea
As I sipped, I longed
To chore on memories
of a Sunday yore
On Marine Drive
In the rains
this persona took my
Palms in his and
asked me for my dreams
I readily gave in
To his charm
and raw wit
I shook and stared
At his boyish hands
They looked at me with
Unbridled warmth
His lip quivered
from cold winds and sea
he asked me
"Tea?"
I locked my locks
behind an ear
hoping to catch his gaze
which so unmasked
my clothed heart
He asked me with a start
"Will you be with me
while I walk?"
I took his lead and
stepped with step
he looked ahead
but smiled within
at my hair blowing
In the wind
This tuesday
is far ahead in time
I look at
His hands
and try to rhyme
his life with mine
He offers me a cloudy cup
I whisper and I recline
I kiss away my week goodbye
and dwell already
on Sunday divine.
