Tea & Wood (Good Morning & Good Night)
My morning tea swings only to the reflection of your face; Journey of another thousand miles starts with your smiling eyes, my sweet, no sugar packet will be needed in this styro-foam airline cup today. *** It’s past my bedtime again. The AC makes an uneven humming, filling the spaces between my bed and these dusty wooden beams with day dreams, or really dreams in the night while I am not sleeping. I love to touch unpolished things. I ran my palms over weighty closet doors that close so imperfectly into each other; I like feeling their rough panels crawling with deep veins; I like to think these lumber were showered by rain in the mornings and stood on a hill sunbathing for many decades before they were re-imagined into these utilitarian objects. If my room is a forest, my bed is a camper’s tent. The fire in your eyes cast a lovely long shadow of my tent on the forest bed. I can close my eyes and watch my roof open up to a night sky that is filled with the same stars winking above your bed.