"...But to me the darkness was red-gold and crocus-coloured, With your brightness, And the words you whispered to me, Sprang up and flamed—orange torches against the rain. Torches against the wall of cool, silver rain!" ---Summer Rain, Amy Lowell
Most mornings you make her coffeeof course it's yours, toothat's what marriage is
The orange light of the percolatorwas the depth of your lovefor us
Consistency through the darkthe dawn, the weekendsand the weekdays
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