November PAD Chapbook Challenge
Day 4
The Fog
I woke up when
the morning seemed
to be
asleep,
creeping in
my open window like a warning
of cold and damp,
street lamps
were rendered
useless,
worthless
fireflies drowned in milk.
Still closed eyes,
silk clothes still on,
I put my hand out
to touch
the chill,
to feel
the misty spill
that on my fingers lingers,
the way
it sways the air.
The streets
slept soundly,
shunning sunrise,
kept wrapping drowsily
tighter
around them the
cloudy
quilt
spread on the roads,
wound
between the houses,
woven
into drives and alleys.
And when
finally
the ethereal white sheet lifted
peeling
off, the city
got up,
reeling,
and I
knew the feeling.
___
inspired by the amazing poems of De Jackson
http://whimsygizmo.wordpress.com/
and by Vladimir Mayakovsky
Wishful Thinking
The dress was perfect.
I thought I saw an angel
when you walked the aisle.
We kissed, and of all my life
it was the happiest day.
The dress was perfect.
You were the perfect bridegroom,
and I think I smiled.
It might have been my best day,
had it been me in that dress.