Sunday, January 4, 2015

A Draft of Everything






Words…
At first, at last, or at least
express me for me!

The artist’s pen is
unloading the last of the ink –
now is the time
to say anything.

I’m in love.
I have always been as
I
am.
I don’t know you, but
I wish all of you covered me, like snowflakes
so perfectly designed.

How much I love
holding you without words,
and when the morning rises
in glorious simplicity
I look at the same Sun,
yet every sunrise is different.

The routine of the days in my eyes,
failed attempts to co-operate,
and raise the glass to another year.
Solitude grabbed a tight hold of me,
a constant stare through a window,
waiting for the view to be
at least interesting, or uplifting,
like the talks we have with my daughter
about emptiness and nothingness,
or about feet.
We agreed that love is
stored in the feet of
the child, the friend and the lover.
We lie in bed.
The rain writes on the roof
in a pitter-patter Morse code.
Dreams draw dragons, and landscapes.
All the love, the food,
our fears,
the impossible that we need,
happens.

Asleep again, then awake,
I’m not waiting.
I’ve simply stayed.

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