at first,
there was blue splitting open to white.
we were all standing on the balcony
watching the horizon darken and curl.
under sweaty palms
I could feel the reverberations
against the iron rail.
i winced at three more white swatches
before turning around
and forcing open the glass door.
i couldn’t find a towel or a napkin.
there is never any time,
i thought.
the stove blinked 12:00 AM
again, again, again
i thought of calling you
but I wondered
quietly
if you might be home,
instead.
– sc
sheila sea 
Love this! I always look forward to your poems- they’re amazing. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
thank you so much. 💕💕
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your poetry is lovely.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love how your, again, again, again played into the preceding and following line. So reflective. I felt the night both dense and closing in.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, I really appreciate it.. I’m glad you noticed. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person