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Pacific Time Zone
February 16, 2015
The trade winds blew in unusual directions
The coffee burned
And we ran out of bread.
Sitting cross-legged on the carpet
I watched the sun streak through the blinds
And observed:
The palm trees bent closer to the road
Three coconuts fell
And the lilikois ripened.
Where you are, it is 1:39 am
And you are sound asleep.
How is it that I think of you in my waking hours
More than you glimpse me in your dreams?
I put thousands of miles
And a five hour time difference
Between us
But still
I am yours, yours, yours.
© Deborah P. Newton, MA
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