What remained of winter washed up into my throat
so you made a cup of strong ginger tea, honey added with lemon.
Your soiled pajamas spun round and round with soap
in a dance that was unexplainable.
Your dance. But I knew why.
Guilt makes you do things.
I needed strong. I needed you.
Your voice faint and mistakenly distant over the wires
even as you stood right next to me.
You hiding. Me guessing.
That game we play over and over.
Maybe I should hide and you guess where.
Hide behind the ache in my lower spine,
hide from the fear buried in my bosom,
hide away the treasures lost to time
and a curvy blonde.
But you stand over me and serve a platter with tea
and sweet chocolate bits.
You convince me to taste you once again.
Insincerity does not become you.

–Victoria Emmons ©2017

Mother Nature

She tricks me again,
trompe l’oeil at midnight,
cloaks herself
in salmon pink.

Changes her dress 
for the evening,
disrobes and
takes me with her.

Each night differs
from the previous, 
glorious splendor 
counters daylight. 

Wait for tomorrow, 
see what she reveals
as colors morph into 
monotonous pink. 

Mountains, sky and snow 
blend in harmony,
same as they lie 
together in ecstasy. 

Pink lingers way past 
midnight, fills windows 
too bright to close, hearts
too easy to love.

Absent moonlight, she dances
to her own tune, without worry
or fear, lighting up the
sky and fields with joy.

–Victoria Emmons, ©2017