Garry Burdick

KISS

What befalls the kiss once given?
A touch of the past that so
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MOON

The moon so often applied as a metaphor
in a poem that murmurs of Love and Desire.
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A solar noon, chillness and belated pea soup fog not wanted.
The warm sun seeking to attack the thick cloud like air around the pond.
The fog not knowing better, attempts an imitation solar eclipse
thinking to fool this village and it’s people.
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Tea Cup
OH Tea cup full but needing a spot of milk to entertain the pourer who loves the white cloud that develops from the bottom of nowhere.
Still I must wait to partake, for the tea is far too hot.
But it’s hyper-pigmentation yonder calls to me to drink this eye-opener I should not ignore, the tea seemed to say.
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