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Indelible

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A summer’s afternoon
stamped with golden dust
cicadas played a last hurrah

a chipped blue mug
full of sweet ice tea
that was all

a lowly swing
and a wooden chair
on a porch neath my feet

of splintered wood
that creaked
indelible memories

the blue mug is still full
stained on my heart
with fingerprints

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    2 COMMENTS

    1. I am impressed with the picture you painted with these words.

      I am a big fan of porches, porch chairs, hammocks etc.

      I can imagine a lot. Who sat there last, why?

      who will lie on the hammock next?

      I have memories that make me do this imagining…and this poem brings up many of those memories.

      j.

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