Summer

I wrote this poem for Max :)

Staring at walls

Blank walls, waiting for
Beauty. Tape, putty, tacks; no
awe there. Wait for it.

I write, you in mind.
Long walks, singing in my room.
Picnics at the park.


Scraps of nostalgic 
value. Unusual blooms.
A poem for you.


The wall, no longer
blank, white, or bare. Memories
cloak the emptiness.