Mira Martin-Parker
April 2012

I look at you
every evening,
and you gladly show yourself to me.

You're not at all shy.

In fact you're brazen.
You twinkle and shift—
wink and smile—
turn about.

Every evening
I come to you,
eager for your display.

I await your colors—
gray,
gold, and blue.

I await your smell—
smoke,
sea, and cypress.

When that time comes
and you call for me

obediently

I will slip on my shoes
and head for your door.

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