Heart Strings

When I write poetry
in the future,
I can imagine what the perfect
scenario will be: early morning
when the mist lies
on the slumbering grass
and you still in bed
(it must be the weekend)
hiding your face from the rising
sun but also peeking out
from under the sheets,
watching me sit at the computer,
a mug of steaming tea at my elbow,
maybe a little music, the Seventeen
Lyrics of Li Po, playing.
Then I will offer
to make you eggs for breakfast
but you, like the gentleman
you are, will decline and say
"Maybe when you are
done writing."


Weaving words along with everyone else inspired by Write Alm's September Prompt-a-day.