writings by d.c.p.: Where are you now?

Where are you now?

You look past me toward the kitchen sink inside

as you wait for an answer to your question.

I pause, say nothing

and wonder briefly what you’re looking at.

You’re usually preoccupied

with thought

your next venture

who will look your way;

impressed by the gold and white hue

to the new wooden floor

and the placement of the roasted tomato

on your plate

surrounded by dainty edible flowers.

So this is nothing new.

Kids play in the yard below

sword fighting with metal sticks

typically used for roasting marshmallows.

I look past you, at the one with golden locks

barefoot—her toes in the creek

that runs through the manicured yard.

She smiles,

looks up, and catches my eye.

I forget to answer

and make my way down to her

the keys of your grand piano echoing

through thin glass windows.

writings by d.c.p.