Sarah
(since I’ll call you by your Christian name),
Oh dear.
Your teeth underwent a transformation.

The grass left its signature on your
jeans and white tees
and I thought I heard the sun?
blazing in your
hair
(some say “gold” but I like “amber”)

be holdin'

And your eyes,
the ones in your face,
they’re becoming sapphires
while we browse through files together,
(at your desk)
Oh dear.
I don’t know what to do about that.

and to end where I began—
your teeth,
they’re the shade I once saw
sported on a little white egg timer,
which, being always kept near the kettle,
had gotten just the tiniest bit
tea-stained,
Dear Sarah.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s