Sometimes I get dreamy and love thoughts increase. Sometimes I write the poems you read here. Sometimes the poems write themselves. Or, maybe the words come from the dreams I have in that space of time when I first come to conscious thinking but before my eyes open. The following poem wrote itself; then again, maybe it was from the luscious dream I had this morning.
©Silent
Sunday at Dawn
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved
Stars that surfeited the sky
lose their brilliance
when the sun peeks
over the desert’s horizon.
A warm breeze whispers
through the Piru Queen palms
outside my chamber’s glass
and it’s like my lover’s breath
that teases the fine hairs
at my nape when his head
bows to kiss my bare shoulders.
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