GloPoWriMo – Day 28

Nest in Blue

Your bed, a nest of
fresh-laundered clothes
on the floor–those
blue cords I remember
so well, soft, like
your eyes–

We scrounge a yellow towel,
steal the afghan from
the couch, the nights I
stay over, which are
most nights.

When we wake, you pull
a t-shirt from out the make-shift
quilt and go into the day
smelling like us. The
window offered

a slant of sky, beneath the
landing awning. Most
mornings we woke
to fog. On the rare
days the sky

shone clear, you shouted,
“Stay blue!” From our bed
now, we gaze past the
neighbor’s brick house
The eucalyptus

dances with golden leaves
in the morning sun.
On rare dawns, it’s
cloudy. I hear you breathe
beside me

not yet awake. And all the
thousands of mornings
I’ve woken next to you
come rushing back to me.
We did it.

We stayed blue.

Daily Prompt:  “Describe a bedroom from your past,” from Na/GloPoWriMo.

Author’s note: I’m recognizing that prompts are just that: prompts. They’re what prompts you to write the poem you want to write.

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