Jack’s Wife Freda

Heavenly sun’s day.
Smitten by the city, Soho stripes and florals.
Fixated on the honey syrup that you pour so effortlessly over the waffle grid.
Each block symmetrically filled, like six eighteen.
I could swim in it endlessly,
With you endlessly.
I could spend all of my days on the terrace
In woven chairs, in a sundress
Our fingers playing a sweet game of “Cat’s Cradle.”
Sweet like mixed berries, like your brown sugar espresso.