Sunday
morning, windows open
Smell of
bacon in the chilly air
From
some unknown apartment
Down the
street
Indoors
the aroma of coffee brewing
Waking
up to breakfast in the city we call home
Now but in
any number of others
Morning
routines much the same
Small
things like these
Smells
that trigger glimpses of a life lived
Reaching
out my hand, still half-asleep,
To touch
the yesteryear of memory
Remember
back to an autumn morning
A Sunday
many years ago another city
Espresso
in a tiny pot and fresh bread for breakfast
From the
organic deli on the corner
Wandering
those city streets in peace
From sandy
shore to colorful center
A
latticework of travels
In our
quest to feel that city’s heartbeat
Outside
the trees' autumn colors
Grace
the gray backdrop of sky
Wan sun
has finally risen
But has
overslept like we have
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Copyright 2014
Paula M. De Angelis
