I
Waiting for the #12 bus -
impatience or
to watch two pretty women
and a bearded man
wading through
the anonymity of time.
II
Another beautiful face
with an infinite past
A soul which I recognize
from where?
I gaze at pictures on the wall
and smiling sunflowers in a vase
shimmering to the windowed
world of light
directs my gaze down
to the polished floor
where I watch a tangle of shadows
etching dark flowers
and an answer.
III
She sings a song,
her voice
waving like water
across the kitchen table
opening her heart
which bled iridescent color
some day distant
but which now
in the slant light of afternoon
bathes the room
in golden smile -
radiance
warm to the touch
heals the day.
