on a canvas gesso white full of wherevers and
whatever might be my palette and brushes try
to write naturally yet come out abstract now my sky
all blue and black so artfully crafted cry and rain
down surfaces into puddles of grey

like missing that other part of you
you knew was gone but could not
quite put a finger on
and left me alone?
Like me were you somehow not quite there
and saw you floating somewhere
above looking down
out on a cliff looking around
or above everything wondering if
me or you was really real?
Then I was me and you were too.

He had to come back.

On a December afternoon
when the sun was more to west,
he landed on the most favorite place of his house,
the roof.

Just as he had imagined
the still winter air was abuzz with life.

Doves were pairing for a home
Green bee-eaters swooped on insects
Two herons kept following the grazing cow
Crows were busy with twigs and wires
High up beyond where paper kites could soar
Storks slow sunned their wings wet from the jhil
The cats warmed their furs before the cold night
The stray puppy gamboled with its mother.

Each piece had perfectly fitted the other
including the silently sleeping house.

He was tempted to walk down once
has she changed any little way?

He smiled to himself
then breezed away from the roof.

Be strange
Be loud
Go out in the croud
Don't hide
go play
And at the end of the day
Be happy
Be you
Just always stay true

A week ago
We were sitting in the cold
But I was warm
In your arms
today I sit in the heat
Shivering