Wednesday, August 15, 2007

samia on her parents - second direct score

Pause


I thought I’d write a poem on you


The smell of cinnamon.

The vanilla wall lit by the lamp.

Cake crumbs on the dark wood.

Bougainvillea in the breeze.


Your room-

cozy yet clean.

You lie there,


stomachs rising and falling.

Cool fresh air.


I’m home.


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