What will you do with your day?
Sighing, he takes his coffee black,
cream in the cup can divine fortunes,
golden stain, plain as the date on the
paper I never read, hardly ever,
something exciting happened today,
so you say, playing with contentment.
My vented blouse breathes pointelle,
he sings in the morning, mock
ballads, showered clean. Rain
streaked streets never throw up
dust, flower fresh, the air thrums,
imagining leaves.
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