Suspended . . .

in that no-man’s land


choice presented

and indecision,

no more.


She stirs under clean white sheets

As the early Athens sun

Saturates the room in soft pink,

Mocking the darkness that hovers …

teases, descends.

The sun will always rise

The sun will always set

Caught in the inevitable so and so

But she knows

The warm pink glow

Must prevail in the everyday

For she has been sitting

In shadows

For far too long

iPhone Nostalgia

A song pulses,


reverberates within my soul

As I gaze through rising steam,

Courtesy of a mug of tea —

for reflection purposes.

Empty the device of photos . . .

On to another

A fresh start, purging of the past

Two years. Where have they gone?

Onward to the new memories,

Not forgetting the present

In the process

The song changes.

It’s a new one, I’ve never heard.

A wise purchase.