Sunday Scribble.

Puddle, 1952, M. C. Escher

Wish You Were Here

it rained that day, we woke

to find morning dark gray

sky rumpled as the bed

windows slick-streaked

but okay since we were here

together, not much to do just

be, the rain tapping its toes

to our forever song, punctuation

marking memories -- now

there are footprints, reminders

tracked across my thoughts

my mind a puddle, our picture

a rippled postcard sent to show

exactly where we were 

and how, that day it rained 

-- smh

Thanks to M. C. Escher, 

and Tess at

Magpie Tales 

for the prompt -- 

click over for a few good reads

and then leave an idea of your own . . .