Another offering from “Dark Road”, my 1st collection of poetry. Here’s to detours, being lost, discoveries and trusting your own voice wherever the journey and the pen leads.
Waiting for the ordinary
on a Tuesday in May, barely
warm enough for the cotton dress
blue striped, clings to her swelling breasts;
the world passes aquamarine eyes
and in that moment, she decides
stirs her tea, sips in contentment
perfume of lilacs is sweetest
as you turn from Oak onto Main
every breath is never the same.