A Sunday Morning Offering
Kiss my lips like coins
Kiss a beggar’s
Cup – Firm in its softness.
An affirmation of love’s
Neologism when words themselves are stale.
When people grow up grow senile
And wonder why birds congregate
Around park benches; the confusion of holding
Bread at dusk.
How drinking water in a vase leaves
The flowers with one outcome. How when
The pen forgets paper
Language is still-