His coffee cup
patiently sits
on the kitchen counter.
Stamped in black scroll:
Seattle
from the Pacific North
300 miles to the west
of prairie.
Blotches of brown
blend in
with the turquoise speckled tile;
a mosaic of water meets earth
colliding as strangers do.
With a nod,
separate paths are introduced;
the red door opens,
an invitation to the party
he hesitantly accepts.
I refuse,
distracted by unopened boxes
that mysteriously shuffle
from room to room
and strange orange stains
on the living room rug.
Curtain fibers
and tendrils of pillow tassels
cling to the cutouts
in my over worn sandals
reminding me this is my new home
and they will always be here.
Waiting for me,
and I, for him
slowly
unwrapping myself.
Copyright 2006 by the Tipton Poetry Journal.
All rights remain the exclusive property of the individual poet and may not be used without their permission.