A Fifth

A Fifth

Was ten years of her man’s clean life
He slipped from knife’s edge
And fell into a lush bed of almond groves
Picking and planting
She accepted less than she deserved
His blue heart kept the nights cold
His golden eyes kept the touch hot

Their time was Al Jarreau, rain, Spike Lee movies, and backyard cookout smoke
She lifted his soul with her fingertips
And tucked him into arms of summer lake water
Pulsing and swaying
He willed more than he had to give
Her green breath kept the stories fresh
Her bronze feet kept the ground solid around them

They waded through decades of debris
And they made it

Leave a Reply