ms.Corinne

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I loved your lips,
ripe mangos
bending
the heavy
bough
the
orange
glow
of her sun
burning
early
autumn
at dawn.

ms.corinne
and her men

in white shirts
dressed
in black
shoes for the feet
to keep moving.
Dancing the dances
in lobbies and halls

ms.corinne

at the front doors
parting

ways hesitant to a kiss
or a late cafe au latte.Spring

pressing on like lightning bonbon
so long.

By Steven Wakowski

1 comment:

Natalie B said...

Hey Steven - Are you by chance related to someone named Keith? I'm trying to track him down. (I like your poetry btw)