poetry by j matthew waters

chaise lounge

it is in between seasons
a mixture of worn out colors
making the ground & sky
appear as an open sea

a baby’s cry can be heard
from within
a sure sign that someone
is coming back to life

not long ago I could behold
or perceive your breath
in the open air    or beyond
my wildest imagination

february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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