it is May
the hungry eyes of a ragamuffin
inspects an afternoon
cobblestones gets dappled
with loosened red petals
sky empty as the paleness
of your lips in the photo
tainted with a hue of forgiveness
looking out the window
perhaps at the tree losing florets
your hair disheveled
by the warm hand of summer
i saunter along a path
in the iciness of
a bygone winter
