Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I set the crossword puzzle down
just want to close my eyes for a few
remember the swaddled touch forever
the morning sun on my bare shoulder

I bathe in oft unacknowledged privilege
worry that she will not always come to me
I try to focus on the majesty of her breath
imagine a new poem to leave my grandchildren

but I cannot conceive the adequate words
to translate this shangri-la del sol, so I ditch
the poem, hunker down in the sleeping bag
of my contentment, feel the waning summer's kiss

the sun's tongue inside my mouth
seduced again by the siren of the early day
I know this is a can't miss experience
for these moments are dwindling and finite

like the Good Humor man in his gleaming white truck
and his mindless jingling, autumn beckons...
her spindly fingers curled, waving me to come hither...
Leave Me Alone Lorelei, it is not yet my time

You know she's gonna get ya because (wait for it) it's her time

Excellent. I don't have an adequate comment on this. I like it. It speaks to me. It is poetry.

can't argue with you ming...she's biding her time....

and thanx danno, appreciate your feedback, as always