I keep the door open for you.
black olives served for dinner.
the memory of the sunset, scattered
over the orchards of Mediterranean.
grapes, chilled on ice,
sweet, intoxicating
in the mouth of a
gardener and a god.
water in my palms.
it soaks through the skin of my fingers:
molecules are invisible like a sleeping wind,
drops – a fragrant breath of the violets in my garden.
I’ll keep the door
open
until all is gone
~c:NKO12/2/12
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