Morning Toast

By Amy Thomson

Escaped through orchards,
we ran to freedom.
Warmth kissed our cheeks as
our feet kissed cool ground.

With purple fingers
and grape bellyaches,
we chased the days when
smiles spread like jam.

The Earth and Sun danced
with each other long
enough for you to
find another home.

Your absence carved lines
around my eyes and
my lungs would beg for
a sweet breath of you.

Time began to peel
my mind’s wallpaper
and coated frames of
memories with dust.

Once in awhile,
munching morning toast,
I can still taste the
laughter of summer.


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