Worn-out sweatshirt
zipper's broke
Held close by hair clip
Waiting for the sun
to warm me,
Saturday
so clear and cool
Perfect--
on-deck morning
for cheerios
hanging laundry
sharing bottom-milk
with cat

if she could be a tree ag'in
never seen a balsa growin'
don't know about light wood

I am more acquainted
with the hardwood species
and as I speak

There in the woods, a balsa
tree floats off into the atmosphere
so light

fifty-nine years
  a month and two days
     seven hours
          and twenty-nine
              seconds
it
took

Here I am world.

I don't care anymore
              what you think.

But I got this plot of land
Out in the field
Under the weeping willow,
Figure since I spent
A good piece
Of my life
Under those limbs,
It'd be a good place.
I saw a lot
There, under that tree,
How the sun
Comes and goes.
Thought it'd be a good
Enough place,
Perhaps,
To spend
Eternity

Red rose cheeks
As the night approaches.
The moon prepares the stellar
Table for the feast as her lover
Sun retires after his
long day's work.
And high into the night
Her glow
Watches his keep
With anticipation.
The hours are infinite
As the world turns
Below.
Her patience spins around
The globe.
she gathers
Lovers souls to
Be immortalized
In eternity
Place them in the sky
Like diamond rings.
She knows how it
Feels to love,
But,
Be so far, so far
out of
Reach.