Sun Kiss
The sun was on me
that day.
It came
through the bars
selfless as my
grandmother's kiss;
clover mead light,
sweet on the lips
of winter's dead dream.
I turned my back
on the itching of buses.
I forgot
the black lilies
spearing frozen worlds,
nova'd stars.
Promises overflowed
the bottles of my eyes.
For a moment
I even tasted
the blackberry vintage
of you
decanted before me,
then dust
once again.
May 2021
posted for Fireblossom
Images: Photo, artist unknown Fair Use
Olive Trees with Yellow Sky and Sun, 1889, © Vincent Van Gogh Fair Use
