it is 6:07 pm
when the three pairs
of underwear lie strewn
next to the sink.
i dread, but i wash.
☆
it is 6:19 pm
when i walk
upstairs to my balcony
to hang fabric, dripping wet.
and sunset kisses
the clothes hangers like strawberry
lemonade, sinking from mellow
blue euphony into gentle lavender
honey, blowing dreams
on my cheeks.
dear, you see.
it is every day
when scales of carp sparkle
ruby under rivers of
soaked sun, glowing.
it is every hour
when a piece of star falls
and shatters as sapphire
spilling on earth, blinking.
it is every minute
when a skylark’s song flutters
to a breeze carrying the scent
of wildflowers, swaying.
it is every second
when someone says
i love you by squeezing
your hand tight, praying.
★
but really, most of the time,
we just don’t want to do laundry.
Louis H
Jessica T