Saturday

It comes too rarely and passes too quickly.
We sit across the room from each other
and talk and share as we are seldom able,
given the restraints of job and the clock.
A stream of steam rises from her yellow cup
and lifts my panicked heart to a higher plain.

With the early sun behind her she is beautiful
as always.  The white wicker rocker frames
her, and her auburn hair catches sun’s fire.
We laugh and smile, play with our little white dog.
A stream of steam rises from her yellow cup
and lifts my panicked heart to a higher plain.

She has much to do, as do I; but we are refraining.
we have the day before us, and tomorrow as well.
Later we’ll work.  Still later we’ll play.  Ride bikes
in Celebration.  Eat sushi.  Go out late and carouse.
A stream of steam rises from her yellow cup
and lifts my panicked heart to a higher plain.

Too long we lived without being together, and
too often through the week we are forced apart.
She knows I carry her heart with me as I labor.
I know mine beats within her as she toils hard.
A stream of steam rises from her yellow cup
and lifts my panicked heart to a higher plain.

 

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4 thoughts on “Saturday

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