What would I wish for?
What would I want?
To be whole again?
To be sane, or to not…
One more minute?
One more look?
To go back and do it over, do it by the book?
One more beer, just one more night?
What do we wish for when there’s no light?
To be with ease?
Just to do as I please, without worries or fears
There are no more years to feel guilty I missed
Just one more kiss?
Another touch, another hug?
Another day?
For friends not to go away?
What will I wish for?
What will I want?

I crave paper
I long for its smooth space
Open fields of hidden words
Carriers of life
Forever anticipating the touch of a hand
The caress of a pen
Judging not content
nor the needy desire to speak
through silence

I collect pencils
Small, used and worn
They sit in a box on a shelf
They are reminders of stories told
Companions of bits of my moments
which have faded from mind
but are found on paper
spilled from pencils