I used to write
About things and about
Feelings and about experiences
That is until I
Studied a winter tree
Free from its leaves
I noticed a similarity
There’s one central thing
That makes all other
Things possible I knew
Then that writing about
Was different than writing
From and that simple
Idea made the difference
I am the tree
My words the branches
And readers its leaves
It’s almost here and
I’m already there and
It’s strange this and
I’m just waiting and
It’s feeling different and
I’m getting excited and
It’s about time and
I’m on my way
Remember my friends
You have to
Shovel a lot
Of coal to
Either find a
Or be found
As a diamond
How can I
Being so small
As to fit
On a pin
Think myself big
I’m a dot
A blemish even
Just a blink
My mind thinks
That I’m bigger
Than I am
It’s my heart
That knows though
That you are
Where’s my forever gone
I blinked it disappeared
Lost in a lifetime
Of love and relationships
Given to others sometimes
As easily as withdrawing
Cash from an ATM
While a few others
A long term investment
That I watched evaporate
During a mid-life crash
And now as I
Stare into my what’s
Left in my piggy
Bank of affection I
Carefully count my pennies
