Waiting
Friday leaps through the window
curtains swing to the swish of the sea.
Spirit sparkling, dizzy for your return
I wait for your call, scanning the dawn.
Church bells chime down the hillside,
the village stirs under a honeysuckle sky.
A lemon field sleeps beneath the mountains,
plum purple with wild scented heather.
Life peeps from geranium doorways
as the blush of our weekend beckons.
Love burns red as a mid-summer rose
until Sunday sobs through the window.
And we yearn for Friday to leap again.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
