I spent hours
answering the question:
Why?
What else is there? I respond
a laugh flying deftly
from my mouth
in a tumble
of pillow feathers.
Did you know, then?

Life is unbearably short
and rather tragic.
And we so rarely say or do
what we should.
Years spent stuffing words
into our pockets
amongst loose change,
brittle leaves,
all those rainy-day prayers
collecting in denim
pockets waterlogged.

Here is what I do know:
There is you.
And me,
and possibilities we have yet
to even dream of.
So hold my hand,
listen to the
song the starlings sing in the
late evening
and fall asleep here
in the embrace
of dusk.
This blanketing dark
that calls us by name.