Glare and blare and rough gray pavement
In one step
Onto the pliant meadow of burgundy carpet,
Where deep chairs await with embracing arms and
The mile-long sofa absorbs
The kinks and knots of a withered soul,
The wingtips underneath, unseen.
Gentle hues and tender light
Enclose a life in photos
Displayed on the baby grand, bookcase, and tables.
The walls hold figures and musings
By Degas, Picasso,
And subdued, steadying Rembrandt.
So many pieces serenely wed.
She is Gibraltar.
She is a cloud,
Soft and suffused with
All the colors of the sun.
She offers icy drinks clear as water,
And her smile, it’s heaven
For a bat out of hell
Who lives in his spinner bag.