Friday, May 21

 A Friend or Three

Your smile, my sister friend, floated around the room, evaporating and adding to the room's humidity,
it permeated the air and condensed on the slender wine glass half full of rolling rock,
slid down the stem and, your smile, watered my hand resting there.

Your five o'clock shadow (our was it four?), my dearest, massaged the face of the Cat,
a purr then forced itself from his throat like love shot from cupid's arrow;
he licked your chin, and, with a small leap and after noticing the drips on my hand,
frolicked over and licked my sisters smile clean from my hand.

Your hand, my brother friend, strummed gently upon the strings of an out-of-tune acoustic.
Setting it down and scratching the sofa fabric, the Cat sauntered over to catch the sound.
Snatching him in mid-air, your hand placed him on your lap, each finger gently touching the soft
fur, shedding my sisters absorbed smile onto shirt sleeves and dusty corners of the room.

Why sweep the floor when its so full of you?