poems,  poetry

Sunday Morning.

quiet love
draped in deep sighs
and cigarette smoke
eyeglasses and
cold coffee

long days in bed
newspaper on the floor
ashtray full
baggy shorts
on the floor

calm brain
no need for thought
just breathing
and loving
holding onto the sheets

talking in pauses
between long drags
and sips
white cotton
worn like a uniform

the memories flow
and fill the room
billowing and stinging
then fading into