As hard as I try, I can never —

          take myself out of the equation —

                    out of the script —


The page crumpled —

           discarded on the floor —

                   waste basket missed again —


Too short —

           my stretch to find the perfect —

                   something —


Desperately switching —

          from Pen and paper –

                    to speeches spat out —


Hot coffee —

          scalding my mouth —

                   words change everything between us —


This morning words play hide and seek in the mist —

           obscured by low hanging clouds —

                    Until coffee is brewed —


The sound of it —

           rushes in my veins —

                      Neither food nor sustenance —


It focuses me —

            Like the sun reaching out —

                      touching each leaf, each bough —


Until I am of this world again.


Alyse Sammarco
une 4, 2021