Rosy White Alcove


Rosy White Alcove

Sitting street level on an ottoman
Inside a bay window
Looking out of
Rose stained glass,

We’re looking at the people
On the sidewalks
In between the walls
Of our tea mugs.

We’re looking out of
Cold bay window panes
With droplets
Of cloud fodder
Playing on its surface.

You’ve got your legs up
Wearing skinny jeans
And I’m rubbing your
Feet through fuzzy socks.

I can hear
A quiet TV in the background
Playing a festive movie
We’re facing away from.

An unlit fireplace
Is below a redwood cabinet
Filled with more DVDs.

Between the cars street level
Splashing gutters with water
And rain sliding down
The smooth bay window,

We see and talk about
Rosy people walking street level,


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