Brittle bright iced morning
Sun screaming across a harmonic sky
Misty windows clearing.

Work clatters to a halt
You sip cantina coffee and listen
As children beg biscuits

October afternoon
The Sun, behind the mist, between the trees
Pretends to be the Moon.

The iron runs steaming
Its slow warm dance across the shirts and sheets
As quiet evening falls.

You spark words with a friend
Discuss the politics of open love
With no point to defend.

I saw you once resting
Sweeping the hair from you lips with your hand
You gave a glancing smile.

These fine thoughtless  moments
Like unexplained dreams will last forever
Are dreams but dancing dust?

Is all of this madness?
If so I cling to this insanity
Plain, Beautiful, Hopeless!