of tourquoise...

rain-washed sky
the moment that the sun
pushes the last cloud over the horizon,

how it feels to slip
naked
into cool cotton sheets
while the sun is slanting in
the open bedroom window

the taste of earl gray
with milk and sugar
and a ginger creme brulée

dad's rock shop back home
and the way the grinder smells
water and brushed steel
mixing with earth
polishing each gem
to it's perfection longing to be seen

cotton candy spinner
twisted sugary cobwebs
whisping round the carousel sounds
and smell of snowcones and funnel cakes

the scent
of cut grass and jasmine
on the first week after spring

gift from my grandpa
after he died
warm tanned leather, soft to the touch
silver belt buckle
still beautiful
peppered with cracked, polished stones
of tourquoise.