When the sky clears and the sun comes out
and waves wash clean the shore, I’m thinking
of you and the color you wore the day you
said, He doesn’t love me any more.
And you think it might have been the sea turning
when the fish swam after your line, or the color
of your nightgown when you were five. Or it
could have been his eyes or the solemn burning
in his expression. You know, he always calls you
but he didn’t just the same. And there was no
card in the mail either. Does it mean you are
that color too? Or can you be sated with those who
sent all those wishes. There is more, of course, but
always there is enough. Someone said that once.
Do you believe it? After all the sun came out,
while you dined by the cloudless sea.
Do you believe it? After all the sun came out,
while you dined by the cloudless sea.
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