Just Plain Foolish

Just a chance for an old-fashioned, simple storyteller to say what needs to be said.

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Name: Plain Foolish

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Thursday, December 20, 2007

This morning...

Morning decorates
With finest sparkling lace
The parking lot.

Cars speed, unseeing
past the hawk, silent, intent,
watching for breakfast.

Cold hands hold a cup,
Gentle warmth easing fingers,
ready for the day.

Cocoa, tea are warm,
but not so warm as a word
spoken to the heart.

Labels: poetry

posted by Plain Foolish | 5:18 AM

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