Sunroom

Frames of lighthouses and oceans move;

the sun crawls orange across the room.

Split curtains cut the bleeding light;

red cardinals sing sharply outside.

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The inside is alive with music--

barefoot trills, kitchen acoustics;

dancing, with dinner on the stove;

water leaks crack the ceiling above.

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When the sun sets and the silver looms,

glowing owls and coyotes croon.

Dreams assume, and blue beams lurk;

buried memories awaken her.

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Hiding crickets chirp their symphonies,

the high moon stares back, patiently.

Wisps of wind spin thick midnight air

between folded hands, whispered prayers.

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The yellow porch light lures tattered moths,

bright starry eyes, out, staring off;

far away, near the lucky sea,

but sleeping under the same moon tree.

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Quiet shifting, dripping coffee brews;

the sun creeps new across the room.

Breezes kiss lace curtains aside,

wind chimes charming on the porch outside.

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The inside comes alive with music,

barefoot trills, kitchen acoustics;

wishing, with breakfast on the stove;

water leaks crack the ceiling above.