Actions speak louder than words, but oh… they are sweet.
I received them in my willing mouth—victim to their honey.
Aspiring…
Build a foundation, the nuts and bolts.
A sturdy-soldier for the battle of perfect humdrum—
Call me a pink flower!
Apples in a wire basket by the window,
Mother’s blue plates – memories of Easter’s birth on their rims,
Fresh bread rising in the oven,
Your heart’s beat, like a goat, resolute.
Seed planted in the heart – Oh Father!
Despite it all, and a dream, a house of cards.
Smoke blowing from its chimney a chicory wind.
See the Queen of Hearts, crying, at the window
…that wants to be.
-Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2018 All Rights Reserve
Dellymari's Blog 