Parced Paradise

In the dying hours of every day

I find myself cheered

By the details of the world:

 

Birdsong,

An open voice,

A crystal glass of amber serum,

Rippling deep into my transfixed soul.

 

Walking

In summer

Past rippling canopies

And sugar powdered breezes.

Picking a blossom

Of white.

 

Morning,

When I wake up

Before the ever-exhausting alarm

And the sun-kissed dawn greets me.

 

My cup of tea

Warming my palms as I nestle

Down in the winter-dusted cushions.

The promising breeze tickling the tea tag

Against my knuckles.

 

And the enveloping presence

Of my loved ones

As we sit under the rising honey moon

The incandescent sky

Lighting our way.

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