Morning Colors - Linda Perhacs

Fog

Is catching

In cold

Round drops

And from the rail

Of his terrace

Dripping

Some to fall and some to blink

In colours of neon from signs all along

His street

His stairs are wood

And old

And they creak

They complain

When I come

And talk

When I go But I’m quiet if I try

And don’t stay too long

And I go before the morning

And the dripping of the fog

Is gone

Sometimes I wonder

Should I wake him to see

All those bright bubble drops

In the still slickened streets?

Sometimes I wonder

Has he ever really seen them?

Sometimes I wonder

Has he ever really seen me?

It’s so warm and still

Fresh coffee

And oranges

Soon almond cakes

He’ll sleep

Until they’re done

There hasn’t been a sound

From under

Those signs

Haven’t heard a single footstep

That is rushing to be On time

Colors that are dripping

Help to make up For his silence

I think of you in green

I remember

He once told me But when I go As I always must do The color in his day will be clear

And

Blue