Sundial Days

I spend all day watching

The shadows on my wall,

The light like a sundial,

Keeping track of the time

Until you come back to me.

 

The morning sky today

Was a dull and empty gray

That dissipated into afternoon

As outside my window, the Blue took over.

Then it rained anyways.

 

And I see the boots you left

Still kicked off to the side of the front door,

With solid mud caked on the side,

A crushed dandelion clinging to the sole.

I haven’t gotten around to cleaning them, yet.

 

Gazing out the window, I sip my burnt coffee,

Lukewarm now with a sickly, bitter-sweet aftertaste.

Strands of yellow sunlight fall across the room,

Softly touching the foot of my bed,

But my breath fogs at the window.

 

The pen on my desk lies next to

A few scratched out lines on a sheet of paper.

I throw them out and draw, instead:

A picture of your boots.

Author's Note

first draft