Bright smiles veil shadows dark;
when I wake, I can’t recall the
dream-face outlines; still I remember
Some nights, I sit barefoot,
overwhelmed by this room,
a clover-patched self-portrait,
reclaimed in essence.
Yesterday was columbine and
dove-like, an ivory cat poised and
flexible, its soft fur nuzzling me to sleep.
Summer slams its screen door shut;
no more lemonade on the porch,
the xanthous sun cobbles up and
fades to autumn vigil, soft on my repose.