She asked,
"What are you thinking?"
But I was just being
while
staring at the ceiling.

Wouldn't let it go
so an old thought was recycled
about life and an icicle
unsure of the season
and if it knew the ozone was bleeding.
Should it be busy worrying
or thinking,
or carry on simple enjoying
being freezing?

She shook her head, "Honestly, is that the best you got
for me?"
I shrugged and went back to my ceiling
happy and content in the presence of her being