for Marianne
Jul 10, 2017 · 1 min read

Your smile
so tender-tive
eyelashes down
“I never expect
I don’t hope —
I’m never
disappointed.”
Your voice
gets quicker
“I’m happy”
walks away.
Listening —
I become:
road — rising,
fire glow for
returning to,
the tickle
that defuses
disillusion,
every evening’s
first shone star.

