Friday, February 9, 2024

WAITING FOR FOREVER



WAITING FOR FOREVER


In Flint, Michigan

I passed an orange house

Across from a green house

With a yellow car in the driveway. 

And both houses were separated by 

Yards of shallow white snow.

The blue house down the street

Had footprints in the snow going to

A brown door that was between two 

Windows and both windows had lights 

To show those who lived there

The way home. 

The cold in the air under a

New bright blue sky

Whispered of coming changes.

And days later, when I reached 

My own home, all I could see

Was beige sand, beige sand

And grey waveless water

Waiting for the hot summer

To come and break the still air 

Filled with no sounds except for 

The squawk of one seagull

Flying overhead pretending

The day would last forever. 


© Marjorie J. Levine 2024