I come to you again.
Always do.
And sure as eggs,
You’re always here,
Right where I left you.
I bring you the mundanities that weave me together;
I hope they’re beautiful in their ordinariness.
Pointillist.
You know that painting,
The one of the people in the park?
Like that, my mundanities.
Like if I step back one day,
My moments will be arranged into a perfect pattern of great and universal significance.
Having a daughter.
Tasting an orange.
Holding.
Being held.
Writing a little heart song when I should be asleep
The words of my whims dotting the landscape
While the dog smiles and snores at the foot of the bed.
Oh, look, I’ll say.
I see it now.
Dec 5, 2024
Dec 5, 2024 at 12:37 AM UTC
I come to you again.
Always do.
And sure as eggs,
You’re always here,
Right where I left you.
I bring you the mundanities that weave me together;
I hope they’re beautiful in their ordinariness.
Pointillist.
You know that painting,
The one of the people in the park?
Like that, my mundanities.
Like if I step back one day,
My moments will be arranged into a perfect pattern of great and universal significance.
Having a daughter.
Tasting an orange.
Holding.
Being held.
Writing a little heart song when I should be asleep
The words of my whims dotting the landscape
While the dog smiles and snores at the foot of the bed.
Oh, look, I’ll say.
I see it now.
