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Date Posted: 09:44:26 08/21/06 Mon
Author: Mara Broadaway
Author Host/IP: 64.12.116.198
Subject: mint tenor

on the front porch at frankie's,
we sip iced coffee
and watch friday roll away
under the tread of cars passing,
hear the waft and fade of street voices
that call to an unseen someone, somewhere.
i am a tense tangle of days;
he is an oasis in the midst of chaos.

he strums me quiet,
graceful fingers along the
fretboard ease away the past week's
rush and roar cacaphony
as he plays honeysuckle in dulcet chords
that float through traffic's whoosh
like yesterday's lost thoughts
or the ghost scent of flowers
hidden in pine thickets.

his voice tastes like chocolate and
mint tenor that settles my mind
and spreads through my limbs
like balm,
or the cool drift of twilight
on summer eves
and behind closed eyes
i feel only him,
hear only him
and the whispering marvel of how
he sings me peaceful.

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