Lonely nights offer moments of silence
and one dish suppers where candlelight seems a waste
Seated with pen in hand, I smooth the ruffles beneath
as if that will help the words flow
Upon closer inspection I find
heart shaped patterns on the dining room tablecloth
mimic the movements of my hand,
layered one atop another, calling on each to oblige
Crossing lines, intersecting at pre-destined points,
repeating in harmony with one another
as my thoughts gather in the tiny squares
of this colored graph paper staring at me, waiting
Moving in sync with butterfly curves on the corners
and scribbled etchings along borders,
fantasies of a mind in a dream state
swirl, touching each box of this formatted design
Folds neatly collect the shapes of spilled ink
seeping slowly through the cloth
like raindrops on a leaf following the veins
in an abstract yet confined flow
To the blurred eye sits nonsense,
a collection of nothing on a vast white sheet
dancing like uneven feet on a rounded floor
of no particular meaning or feature
Yet to me, my penned innocence calls loudly,
even in the darkness of lost words, these patterns,
as is everything found filling me is you…
and my pen pleads in heart shaped longings