Pink Porcelain Cups

Pink Porcelain Cups

I saw your face
devoid of air:
a crumpled raisin,
blue eyes squinting
at the light.

Your first utterance a memory
of joy,
for in the silence of my sorrow,
piercing cries,
abbreviated gasps for air
broke into sobs of song
filling empty cupboards
of my hungry heart.

I see your comely face
after years have formed
from still-life brushstrokes —
you speak,
I understand
as I did then
when you mumbled words
so long ago.

Showers cascade softly
upon delicate petals,
thirsty leaves;
You pour
our favorite tea
into pink porcelain cups.

by  D. G. Vachal © 2012

* photograph : Pink Painting by TC Davis @Flickr Commons

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