deepundergroundpoetry.com

In Morning

 
Perched Robins sing  
in view from  
our kitchen window  
relieving our silence  
 
a light breeze  
whistles through  
evoking oils  
pressed onto skin  
 
I wash,  
breathing deeply
fresh morning air;  
late to the moment  
 
you,  
knotted-nosed,  
recall the perfume  
 
you no longer love.
Written by ursa
Published
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