Trippy-Dizzy
I see you from the heights of a pine.
I get trippy-dizzy
with you beneath me.
I’m that dandelion
all alone, talking on the telephone,
wondering where
you’ve been - to Everest or a deserted
island.
I’m in the boat. You’re on the shore.
Can’t find the wherewithal
oars. You fell an oak
to bridge
the gap. Generations lapse.
You climb the Christmas tree
to grab the star, find
a trippy-dizzy angel
in the midst of her repertoire.
I hang
an ornament around your neck.
You put a ring on my finger.
We fall through the ages,
winging it through each branch.
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2023
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