Folio · 2017

My Morning Toast

Amy Thompson

Escaped through orchards,

we ran to freedom.

Warmth kissed our cheeks as

our feet kissed cool ground.

With purple fingers

and grape bellyaches,

we chased the days when

smiles spread like jam.

The Earth and Sun danced

with each other long

enough for you to

find another home.

Your absence carved lines

around my eyes and

my lungs would beg for

a sweet breath of you.

Time began to peel

my mind’s wallpaper

and coated frames of

memories with dust.

Once in awhile,

munching morning toast,

I can still taste the

laughter of summer.

Folio · 2017