(since I’ll call you by your Christian name),
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
(some say “gold” but I like “amber”)
And your eyes,
the ones in your face,
they’re becoming sapphires
while we browse through files together,
(at your desk)
I don’t know what to do about that.
and to end where I began—
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