A Midday Sun Kissed Ocean Kind of Blue

I’ll admit that a house overlooking 

the ocean isn’t the safest to raise 

our kids and a Yorkshire Terrier. 

The sky above us a permanent pale 

blue, a mid-day sun kissed ocean 

kind of blue, an it’s late so let’s go 

home shade of blue. Evenings like 

this the moon would hide. More 

like the porch that I always wanted, 

the treated oak breathing underneath 

the flickering string lights, we’d 

wave to the neighbors we haven’t 

met, sedated by the sunlight on 

our backs. Drinking Lagunitas  

and a glass full of Chardonnay, 

refilling our awkward silences with 

snotty, witchy, cackling laughs, an 

unfinished charcuterie board to boot. 

Underneath the Cypress the scent 

of honeydew led us to Patty’s. The 

whiskey stained floor made sure we 

wouldn’t slip during our top heavy 

pas de deux. The Irish trad belting 

their cover to All of Me, we found the 

irony of it all worth singing along to. 

Drunk on gossip we toasted to John. 

The long way home gave us five more 

minutes, enough for us to remember 

it was us that walked by the mirror that 

rippled along its bank. Maybe in 

twenty years we’ll forget but there 

was a lone Wisteria that gave us one 

more hour. Of the songs that you were 

too embarrassed to sing in front of 

everyone and even me, I’ll admit I forgot 

the first one. Then again you made me 

laugh and I knew then I was home.