Soft fistfuls of oblivion
Warm water gurgles
As cold eyes move greedily across the street…
To the playground.
First, the sinewy swings
Next, the gripping rock wall
Finally, the smooth, cool (but not cold)
unyielding (but not un-feeling)…
Into an accidental pond.
Now hop across the lily pads
And please won’t you just sit
Under a tree with me….
And become contemplative of celestial orbs?
If that’s too much
Just sit here with me in my room
Back in the soft saffron caresses
Of the warm bath.