A Girl Recites Coleridge
U Uriah Hamilton
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My days have been spent
on rain-washed streets
beneath dismal grey skies
weeping in retreat
from the most beautiful
of possibilities,
but I still believe
in a glittering new world
where a girl recites Coleridge
or Wordsworth at the bus station
while a woman's fingers keep count
on a Buddhist rosary
and a waitress waters roses
after bringing coffee to my table.
One day, I'll be as exuberant
as the first summer sunrise
and I'll smile child-like
in the magical dawn
and not even a secret mischievous twin
will ever suppress my happiness again.
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