Been writing more found poems from catalogs. Not saying they are that good. Just writin'

We set out for that last espresso,
central Europe restaurant,
vintage wine in antique glass.
This spring woven of
flowering branches.
We admire the hallmark
of small crafted coffees.

A beautifully romantic
Brooklyn, bridge, mercury
surf crashing, rocks,
so many distressed, dividing,
curvy, heart shaped,
a pathway piled up,
through you.

Garland.
Drape or weave
your wet swimsuits after
the sea. Your dearest postcards,
laughing boys, faces of life.
Feel fresh air and color,
flowers at the beach
house porch, honey,
turquoise, almost fruits.

Sunburst off mercury glass
reflects some light off
your hand, on your windowsill,
spring porch, beautiful
as a driftwood cross.