A poem inspired, like so many, by a girl.
a breeze, salt water scented,
from Halifax harbour
on a crisp spring day.
a kitten, charcoal gray,
at a windowed door
in an apartment on the second floor.
a spoon, big or little,
on a creaking couch
on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
a promise, bent but unbroken,
of passion and solace and laughter,
hovering in the mid-morning haze.
in a trunk, of leather and wood,
in neat stacks and careful folds,
at the foot of her bed.