Tucked Away
.
Over the maze, two chairs face one another.
In the morning they are warmed with the sunlight
That hopes to fade their shine.
In the evening the damp air moves over them
And they are subject to the deformities of moisture.
Over the chairs, two tall trees face one another.
In the morning we will sit beneath them and let
The cool winds wake us to the whisper of leaves.
In the evening we will share a meal in the amber fog
And catch the moans and sneezes of the dormant freeway.
Over the freeway, two golden bars of lights
Beam yellow yawns.
They are not tired of the freeway, but they continually
Give this sallow impression of fatigue that falls over
A flat blackness devoid of stars.
This cannot be seen from the chairs above the maze,
But we both know its there, only so far from our minds.
Tonight, the first thing to share our little table
Does not yawn.
Over the succulents and lavender, two turrets of turquoise
Ignore the freeway. You swore for a moment, though, the
Hydrangea laughed out a placid purple that quickly
Caught the wind and was gone.
.
- David Goyette