We all have 
that one thing 
which undermines all 
else rendering us 
helpless for me
it’s two actually 
a cardboard box 
requiring flaps folded 
and one tucked 
and my heart 
why it prefers 
to dangle upon 
my sleeve exposed 
to everyone confuses
me I guess 
that I’m no
good at closing 
things up and 
keeping them safe 

Imagine if
you had 
but one 
moment upon 
which to
spend eternity 
and that
moment has 
already passed 
that’s the 
tiny difference 
between mind
and present 
don’t waste 
time in
the past 
spend all 
of it 
right now 

There is 
comfort in
being known 
like a 
heavy blanket 
always found 
or a
dog eared
book on
the nightstand 
there is 
something to 
that and 
being that
for someone 

When I 
write be
it for
about and
even to
it’s me
whispering to 
an ear
which will 
never hear 

Having had 
once this 
and not 
now I 
think not 
is better 
for having 
means had
except to
those who 
have not 
and so
goes the 
silly little 
flower game