Love On Top Of A Washing Machine
She was sunlight interrupted
on the soft-wood floors of my mind.
She was a breeze on a humid day
that blows itself into a winter
gale force across your face.
She was the salt water
surrounding the boat
lost at sea for centuries.
She rose and fell with every breath
She sparked life and snuffed death
She captured the inmates and in stealth
Fed them bread and stories for their health
She was a white prom dress
in the black breezy night
She was every footfall before the bedroom door opens
And she was the smoke rising from my cigarette
She was the dirt and the detergent,
the goods and the money
the race and the standings,
the inspiration and the song.
It was love from the rinse cycle,
And now she’s gone.
