Wakula Way

Our air lacked cloudiness,

no fog,

clementine and baby skin fresh,

pure,

open and indulgent,

soft and untainted,

filled only with promise and opportunity,

drawing the sweet scent of the honeysuckle nectar onto our tongues,

whistling with us on a blade of grass between our two thumbs,

carrying the perfume of the kumquat snagged from a neighbors bush,

along with screen door slams,

and calls to home,

while the sun shone warm and sugary kisses,

the time was not,

the future was forever.

2 Responses to Wakula Way

  1. Your poetry is beautiful. Your imagery leads me to feel/see/hear/taste/smell all that you are anguishing and all that you are offering. Thank you for sharing these.

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