Glasses clinking as friendships are forged and renewed.
Bellies fill to the tune of political discourse and stories past.
How it was, should, and might be; our objects of hope.
Garlic butter scented memories of children giggling, romping, and cuddling up to new faces.
Bedtime stories, lavender bubbles, and mom's golden touch put little hands, feet, and hearts fast asleep.
A stolen Glance.
The press of a hand.
Invitations of something more intimate as the sun fades and the air cools.
A porch party quartet dances on, glasses clinking as friendships warm.
Red velvet cake melts on the tongue, sweetening the already rich and lush canvass of the day. The contours smooth and silky,
painted in my mind with shades of reds accented with hues of deep blue and green;
the colors of my happiness.
Written for Randy, not quite on his Birthday.
18 Sept 2007
KEM
Bellies fill to the tune of political discourse and stories past.
How it was, should, and might be; our objects of hope.
Garlic butter scented memories of children giggling, romping, and cuddling up to new faces.
Bedtime stories, lavender bubbles, and mom's golden touch put little hands, feet, and hearts fast asleep.
A stolen Glance.
The press of a hand.
Invitations of something more intimate as the sun fades and the air cools.
A porch party quartet dances on, glasses clinking as friendships warm.
Red velvet cake melts on the tongue, sweetening the already rich and lush canvass of the day. The contours smooth and silky,
painted in my mind with shades of reds accented with hues of deep blue and green;
the colors of my happiness.
Written for Randy, not quite on his Birthday.
18 Sept 2007
KEM
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