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                    The urban day                 blue and hazy             sunlight yellow through                 coatings of                 smog.             Shall we coffee my dear                 wife, my dear                 of many                                years?             Street sounds dance through                 the window                                retchings of                 streams                 gone dry.             A child cries.                 What child                           past                                crying                 of hope and                 fear?             What day is this, my dear                 wife                 my dear?             Shall we sing of love                 as the dust lays                 round                                cinching             memory tight to the                 earth?             What day is this?                 The sunlight                 glares             dwarf star dying                 yellow             on the toast the cups dust                 dear                 dust             the wrinkled hand that held mine.