Pothos

A wafting tune in the air greets me as i open the door

Someone is singing, smiling & singing

That early in the morning

The breeze carries the faint words with the morning smell of trees

Some parrots fly by, a cuckoo coos

I sit down near the pothos 

With a warm cup engulfed in my hands

It rained last night & i can see the washed roads With a couple of dogs walking their people.

A cooker whistle shrieks,

The voice stops singing abruptly,  mid sentence.

My mind picks up the old tune & hums on

The cup is empty, my hands still warm.

The tune lingers in my heart.