it's late in the day and it’s misting
she’s waiting
as tiny teardrops settle on limp petals
white against her black nails
the dogwood trees are in bloom
how to create a cobblestoned portrait of the scene outside the window
it’s misting and the colors have bled together
a wash of grey on the palette
the clouds have bled the world’s colors
a red convertible stands against the monochromatic reflection
a yellow mustang tempts the sun but can’t offer up enough incentive
I’m wondering what she smells like
if her lips taste like chapstick or sunshine
for she is seeking sunshine
in the showers April wouldn’t claim