The morning sun slips
Through my blinds like
Slivered almonds landing on
My chin and chest
As my coffee cools
Beside me like a
Patient dog seeking affection
Bed linens tossed aside
Like an after thought
Like wrapping paper destruction
On late Christmas mornings
And sitting here alone
With these three things
I am at peace
Before the wars begin
Being content and settling
For anyone or anything
That truly doesn’t inspire
You is no life
At all oh you’re
Breathing and eating and
Sleeping you’re acting life
Never accept what’s presented
For like food when
Full or drink when
Quenched there is disinterest
Life is to be explored
Death knows it’s way
Back at the start
Funny how life is
A series of finish
Lines whether we run
In a circle or
A line there’s always
A start and finish
At this point in
My life I think
That I’ll walk for
I have learned that
How quickly I get
There is of much
Less importance than that
I get there eventually
Go ahead and run
I prefer to stroll
Enjoying things I pass
It’s not that it’s
Over that bothers me
It’s the picking up
Of all the pieces
This thing of yours
That thing of mine
And what to do
With the things that
Are ours when ours
Is no longer a
Thing and remains nowhere
Where exactly is nowhere
Oh right I know
I’m smack dab in
The middle of it
Love is vast it’s
Abundant and delicious and
Full except when pain
Is involved when either
The heart breaks or
The heart aches both
Requiring time for either
Healing or for waiting
Both of which we
Must always endure alone
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 