Ode to 8 pm

The freckles that

dapple his skin

trace a treasure map.

My fingertips

graze the rough

edge of a long day.

Purple shadows

pool underneath

the window to

our souls.

Like rabbits, we

flinch at the slightest sound.

Please don’t

wake up

the kids.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s