Thoughts, feelings
return in the chatter
and laughter
the sacred warmth
of the night hereafter
Living in a drought,
staring at the reservoir
holding back pain
A circling force
the invisible rain
Still beneath
the toasty
smoke she skips,
The oblivious child
watched by her elder brother
so loving
as coffee’s roasting
and the patrons smile,
she’s got crushed ice in a paper cup
she throws bits in the air, catches them in her mouth.
what a baby,
what a love,
no little brat,
this angelic dove
as these things come forth in shades of honesty,
I wonder still if this child saved me
She reaches out her hand and tells me her name.
so I do the same
and she says, “Welcome back, Mr Moonlight.”
She says, “Welcome back to the game.”
Ren Michael 