It's a framed picture;
A framed one.
It takes up the wall.
Leaving nothing for anything else.
Sometimes
An image
Says everything it needs to,
Without,
Words.

A brace holds her arm.
It was broke
Just before the last morn.
When she nods,
She says she wants what she wants.
I took her hand too soon - not ready,
Souls to feverish to elope.
Thick clouds form overhead yeah?
Raincoat. Fresh paints. Fresh love.

Another chance.

You know I've had a million chances
To be in The Sun
With you?
We've laughed through a million tidal waves;
A trillion battle cries;
A silly amount of cake or pies.
I've regretted nothing for I've changed identity...
Melded them of sorts....
And If I were to ask my future self
From my past self
The reason for love and how to hold it,
I would say:

"To be. To be thee and the other. To be one in stead of two."

And you'd nod and I'd nod,
And the whispering wailers on thin tree branches
Would sing their old song of indecipherable infinity so,
We'd laugh, giggle, carefree run free,
Take Italian love songs for grants mixing love potions with real potions,
Never understanding place, name, or space.

See the leaf fall.
It rests upon the ground.
We've all got our homes.
What doesn't matter now,
Will matter soon.
We smile.
We laugh.
We enjoy the company
Of the man
Without a hat.

All light comes through and I see the frothing beauty of 2011.
She mentions something I vaguely remember.
She says something like, "When numbers were true,
They all were written with ones...they were all written elevens."
It's true that no one ever really knows what they're talking about

(maybe scientists)

But she mumbled these words
And I knew

I knew

That all is lost for the future but, not
To

Give up.

Because giving up is
Like saying
You're not excited for the next day,

And the one

After that.

And, to be honest,
I can't really relate to that.

Don't ask me

Why.