Lonely nights offer moments of silence

and one dish suppers where candlelight seems a waste

Seated with pen in hand, I smooth the ruffles beneath

as if that will help the words flow



Upon closer inspection I find

heart shaped patterns on the dining room tablecloth

mimic the movements of my hand,

layered one atop another, calling on each to oblige



Crossing lines, intersecting at pre-destined points,

repeating in harmony with one another

as my thoughts gather in the tiny squares

of this colored graph paper staring at me, waiting



Moving in sync with butterfly curves on the corners

and scribbled etchings along borders,

fantasies of a mind in a dream state

swirl, touching each box of this formatted design



Folds neatly collect the shapes of spilled ink

seeping slowly through the cloth

like raindrops on a leaf following the veins

in an abstract yet confined flow



To the blurred eye sits nonsense,

a collection of nothing on a vast white sheet

dancing like uneven feet on a rounded floor

of no particular meaning or feature



Yet to me, my penned innocence calls loudly,

even in the darkness of lost words, these patterns,

as is everything found filling me is you…

and my pen pleads in heart shaped longings