Fresh by Carmen Eichmann
In the dark seeing
pink patio petals;
no one can see her
penning new words.
This rain, drought soothing,
swirling and washing
yesterday’s dirt
and mistakes
to an asphalt drain,
easing the clatter,
the clanging,
the clanking of
his ill neglect
and her own fear of
being alone.
Inside the kitchen,
aroma commences
of baked Chicken Paris,
steamed garlic broccoli
pulling her gently, light as a lover,
sensual while she sips
a second glass of wine;
Harold and Maude
paused at the moment
so she can soak in
the rain and be thankful …
he’s no longer there..
