Using my phone 
not to disturb 
mostly in dark
I slip away
like a burglar 
having just stolen 
a great treasure 
looking back I
left something behind 
I see it
bust of Troy
face of Helena
just like the 
one that once
launched thousand ships 
moving to my
side of bed
finding it
empty and asking 
is it that 
time already baby
for me my
love not you 

At this late 
hour I imagine 
you are somewhere 
else but at
least I don’t 
have to imagine 
you as someone 
else and that 
itty bitty thought 
is just enough 
to carry me 
off to dreamland 
where I will 
meet you soon 

I hold you 
in high regard 
not for who
you are but
for what you 
have done which 
is nothing but 
what I’ve done 
you have climbed 
the same mountain 
the same mountain 
that I climbed 
to get away 
and when you 
stretched out hand
your hand was
the only hand 
besides my hand 
that I ever 
saw reach the 
very top of 
my little mountain 

Snow comes in many 
flavors but mine is 
the early spring variety
for what I see
from my bedroom window 
are dozens upon dozens 
of burly polar bears 
climbing atop the smallest 
trees bushes and plants 
trying to settle down 
for a little nap 

Endearing I think 
is one of 
my favorite words
it’s like a 
little cheek kiss 
that simply hangs
there slowly warming 
it’s also sometimes 
a small smile 
across a table 
in a thicket 
of busy people 
buzzing obliviously about 
or the touch
atop of the 
hand belonging to 
one who’s weeping 
endearing things are
often the only 
things that can 
cut through us
like a warm 
knife through cold
sticks of butter