An empty glass,
the stove still warm,
my belly full, my mind
unwinds.
At this hour,
the house is silent
except for
the cacophony of scribbled words stuttered
and poured like merlot,
and thankfully for the past four years
keeping me company,
holding me hostage,
tangled and bound.
A pretty paper moon.
Embroidered stars.
That chill in the air.
Winter came once again, uninvited, though predicted,
as I dreamed instead of balmy spring and sultry summer.
When will I ever learn to live in the moment?
To climb one step at a time
and not wind the clock so tightly
that it becomes unwound?
Each moment to be savored
like the rosebuds of summer beckoning from the garden,
but for now, it is time to stay warm by the fire,
tuck in the stars
and bid sweet dreams
to an alluring alabaster paper moon.
© Connie Song 2023. All Rights Reserved.
