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Sep 2020
it was an era of candlelit dreams
     we played my piano
     harmonizing the evening's laughter
     transfixed by starlight
     and peppered with too much youth
     to catch the fallen minutes
     drifting as snowflakes
     between our words

        its remnants still leave a taste
        of Parisian nights on the rim
        of my glass - how you toasted
        every hour as the sun bled into
        the Seine and our blush faded
        to overcast with upturned lapels
        and footsteps receding into nightfall
Whenever I teach The Great Gatsby, my words turn to green lights at the edge of a dock and glittering stars and eyes that pierce the night with too much honesty.
South City Lady
Written by
South City Lady  F/Atlanta
(F/Atlanta)   
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