d.c. al coda

d.c. al coda

squinted eyes

poring over

your words  

until 

golden hour 

comes to pass--

the window blinds

spilling light

in tiger stripes.

wait 

as though 
I will leave 

at any minute--

barefoot, 

poised to trip over 

the page break. 

times new roman, 

12 point font--

sharp edges, 

phrased 

with no place

to roost.

wait 

until the 

water runs tepid

down the shore--

until the dragonflies 

fall silent, 

the ivory notes 

of their waltz 

slowing, 

morendo. 

eyes drooping,

fermata drawn out--

your lines are bitten

to the quick, 

yet the last stroke

leaves me