When one finds 
genuine happiness within 
then the quiet 
becomes a comfort 
and silence is
no longer smothering 
and a smile 
returned is a
way of hello
and not a
desperate way out
and love breaks 
free and bubbles 
in its glee

The tears
I shed
for those 
who left
mean nothing 
for ghosts
nor smoke 
nor whisps
know density

When chill hangs
above like netting 
keeping out pests 
a cold morning 
does not invite 
one to rise 
but rather remain 
under the blanket 
and next to 
and in darkness 
play a game 
paper rock scissors 
to seem whom
will have to 
go and start 
opening the house 
whilst the other 
gets to stay 
cozy and warm 

I lake 
my sediment 
still deep
but bubbles 
up slowly 
or when 
stirred by
passing fish 
called memory 
only then 
will it 
disappear forever 

On this day
of giving thanks 
I give thanks 
to you yes 
you who read
for without eyes 
belonging to you 
these same words 
belonging to me 
would mean nothing 
many many thanks