Simple Poetry

Flowered Hair and Morning Glories

Let the streetlamps burn,

dwindling at the flecks

of dusty rays

upon smudged cheeks.

Let the crickets whisper

in copper branches

spun with tears of the

boy fishing for dreams.

Let the morning glories

crumple like wet moths

and the bluebirds

lullaby their flock to sleep.

Let us cover the open windows

with sheer, white drapes,

and dismantle the stale air

with flowered hair.

Untangled from the barb,

with the vines of each finger

interlaced with the other's

let's fall in love

like our homes are still intact.