that's mrs. mediocrity to you

mirror morning silence
on the break of september

reflecting every definition
of impermanence

we whisper together
in the corners of summer

not ready to come out of hiding
not ready to escape our escape

climbing each other in a tangle of mime

rain drips from my shoulders
and you trace a path

with a broken-cut
bent branch finger

turning back time
and the last fallen leaf

from the tree
of itinerant shade

.

.

Joining in today over at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads,
where Kerry has been lovely enough to feature
some of my photos in a poetry challenge.
Thanks, Kerry!

.

.

i remember when romance and hope were the same thing
he loves me, he loves me not
tattooed in a circle round my ankle

an ink drawn fresh dried forever shackle
offered in exchange for the customary key

but a young girl’s heart is always moving forward
ready to burst into star-struck song and
a brief exchange of whiskey serenade

until she learns with a crone’s bold eye
love is not the flower, but the root

.

.

.

.
Linking in over at
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads for July’s Word List prompt.
Join us!

.

.