Day Minus One (prompt-driven, impatience-delivered)

Too Late 

I guess it's too late for coffee

Not quite right for chocolate either

The moment is calling for massage
Long, slow breathing
Leaning into, luxuriating

But all I have are twist-untied wrappers
And quiet telephones
And empty inboxes

I guess it's too late to reach for you
Not quite right for rejection

The moment is calling for awareness
The birdsong is calling for the usual mystery

And I am no longer lonely.

Can be found by Clicking Here