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Take one a day and mind the gap,
the rich and the poor, the beer on tap,
stand in line, date and sign,
the Red Bull jitters, the box of wine,
give way to the left, give way to the right,
the artificial winter, the bringer of night.
C
How in the world
Are we supposed to
Spend forever together
If we can not make it
Through
A
Single
Day?
I drive by the little green cottage,
barely visible from the street.
The property that has come to represent
love,
childhood,
adolescence,
and innocence lost.


I know that I can't go and knock on the door,
but I drive by again,
hoping to see a light on in the window
and to send some comfort to the little girl that used to live there.


She is sleeping there somewhere,
alone, afraid, and untucked...
but it won't be that way forever, darling,
I swear.
Hiraeth (n.) - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.
1540

As imperceptibly as Grief
The Summer lapsed away—
Too imperceptible at last
To seem like Perfidy—
A Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun,
Or Nature spending with herself
Sequestered Afternoon—
The Dusk drew earlier in—
The Morning foreign shone—
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,
As Guest, that would be gone—
And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful.
Beloved Mortality,
I do not make haste
To ask my leave for
Impatience of thee,
Not in truth, despair,
Or in disbelief did I
Espy what others grieve
And seemed to fair a
Worthier world for
Me: but forasmuchas
I shall pass, and pass
Into a forgetting, I
Pass nonetheless.
Such worth is there in the so urbane
Northeast wind, fingers that do seem
Hardly aware of the ecstasy that twain
Did doth tend 'gainst the mighty grain;
Driven hard from a blue-grey heaven.

The temperate blast does so e'er pull
Not one so beholden or more joyful
As this soul loosed from the earthy soil.
I yearned to retreat, complete in my will,
To be so held in my eyes quite reverential.

The terrain lies firm beneath my feet.
With joyous warmth, for so does beat
Anxiously mine most libertine free
heart I cast a glance to thee -this the
Drifting cloud that does too follow me.
Essentia of magenta in their twinkling eyes,
A goddess of Valencia, a princess of Versailles.

Each dance, flit, jive, bob, conga, cut a rug,
Yet, only one do I intend to woo to love.

The smokey air! overdue heat! can  NOT contain.
Ahh!!! and without a care, I waft away the steam.
I met a man, perhaps a ***,
On the streets near my home;
And asked me he for some mon-
ey, he said his was more gone.

I had a bit, but only just,
Wasn't sure which to trust,
My head, my heart, or gut.

*I wish I had then but one.
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