Laying across the striped sheets
Feeling the breeze across me
Your hands would be better
Playing me like an instrument
Whose sound is ahhh
But it's all good - the breeze is also you
The peak over the front door roof stands guard
Outside the two generous window frames
I bathe in the breeze like Benjamin Franklin
Peaking out the window
Being caught by the daylillies
Glancing up from behind the picket fence
Waving in the breeze up at me
The bright red rowboat lying on its side
With his bow to me as he nuzzles the garage
But he is not oblivious to me
He just looks like a waste
He is wise as an owl
And he is so discreet
I know he knows
Just as all of them seemingly know...
The big pink teapot just stares
The little mouse attached to it is very perceptive
Valentino sitting under the window
Trying to make me jealous
While three avocado pits are grunting to sprout
Happy as clams in the dish on the sill
Two icons keeping vigil on another sill
While the candle flickers
Making shadows dance
To music that is playing only inside my head
Peaking under the shade again
And the man with the lantern moves his eyes
To greet mine while I wonder
Why isn't he black?
Oh yes...I'd forgtten
But he reminds me:
Political correctness changed his race
Speaking of which...
Shall this room be called appropriately in my memory?
Is this the guest room where I stayed?
Or is this just a room?
Perhaps I may recall this room someday
As the birthing room where my love was born?