Saturday, May 7, 2011

Poems: to Awake

     to Awake

and, if there were a coffee cup,
We’d sit on the table;
wind’d blow; steam’d rise;
condensation would trickle and fall

to the table in little drops
staining the cotton cloth;
I would grab the handle, lift,

and dance in the coffee ring;
We’d dance in the coffee ring.

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