she once thought his face
brought her home to sun
speckled shadows that
cooled her and white-hot
blazes that burned within
one glance and her lungs
began drowning in moist
humidity gasping for
the slightest whisp of breeze
coming off the Atlantic
she looked away her home
wasn’t just stifling heat and
scorching sunshine it was
also diving into cerulean and
inhaling freshly cut emeralds
her home welcomed her
his face turned her out
her home comforted her
his face was vacant a
sign that read For Rent
© Pamela Rossow
Nothing beats the safety of a home we can call our own.
Eli
Yes