me - a poem

I love early mornings when the rest of world is fast asleep, or so it seems, and I'm the only one awake and everything feels like a still life or portrait painting and there are no problems because it is just me, the world, and the rising sun.

me,
sitting Indian style, crosslegged,
on a turquoise sofa
in a still life called Friday,
colored with the natural light of dawn
and fading starlight,
the warmth against
the sleepy, cool skin of my hands
caused by a ceramic cup
filled with reheated coffee,
thankful and happy
to begin another day
and to experience love
from family, friends, pets, and life

© me
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

(painting: Daniel F. Gerhartz - Captivated)

Tumbleweed Contessa's poem: A Trembling Balance

If you are seeking love that glitters between the fragmented slivers of previous broken attempts, take care you don't collide with the silversmith as she hammers out the truth.

© A Trembling Balance
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

Embryonic thoughts,
fragmented,
raw, and
provocative,
splatter the page.

Changing moods,
like tidal waves
feuding between
want and need,
demand compensatory words.

Tumbleweeds cleave to
the desert. Lo! They rush
ahead of the wind
and awkwardly
roll toward freedom.

Love is yellow and
the deepest blue,
pied with
the morning
and with the night.

My love is a trembling balance.

(painting: WIP (work in progress) oils, by Mimi Wolske