Dolores

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