Sipping my morning
camellia tea
while the garden
shadows flicker about me,
reflecting on my deep
San Francisco roots,
and pondering why
love remains so aloof.
This day I shall walk
to the Dolores school
to saunter in the
vapor trails of my mother’s young shoes,
and I shall trace the
ghost of the Dolores Creek
that vanished with
its lagoon into mystery.
Soul repaired by the
loving airs that silent tears share,
I shall leave all of
my worries and my sorrows there.
T. Gramercy
theresegramercy.com
