Like the moon
That inches slowly
Through wooden slats
Like a cat
Prowling before pouncing
The moon beams
Delicately peel the
Browness of your
Skin back like
Your turbulent sleep
Removes the bedsheet
Leaving you ashen
And moving lower
As the moon
Moves higher in
It’s sky eventually
Landing on your
Feet which poke
Free down there
Like a pair
Of wooly mittens
All this as
Satie serenades waft
From hidden speakers
And give me
What I know
Now as beauty
I live in
A room in
A house and
People bring me
All sorts of
Things all sorts
Of things really
Troubles problems jokes
Lunch and dinner
Bills to pay
Things to want
Hair brained ideas
And oh comfort
I like my
Very little room
With my Bach
And my Bethoven
My disco afternoons
And jazz nights
I stay here
Others escape here
In my tiny
Very little room
Like the order
Of things eventually
The lion gives
Way to the
Cub the tide
To the sea
And the sea
To the beach
In life there
Is a constant
Splish splash splush
Of one thing
Getting in the
Way of another
In fact one
Thing means far
Less without the
Other this the
Order of things
This is how
Special you are
You’re an oyster
With two pearls
A laugh without
A joke spoken
Rather something funny
Seen and enjoyed
An ice cream
Which topples from
The cone unfinished
And yet satisfied
Because even one
Taste was enough
A loud hiccup
In a crowded
Room drawing attention
And creating chagrin
Surprises you are
To everyone including
Me that knows
The special you
Like a leaf
That falls upon
My shoulder on
It’s way to
The forests floor
Or a snowflake
That lands upon
My tongue before
Disappearing there or
A bubble whose
Surface shimmers a
Rainbow before delicately
Popping or even
Like that one
Old stale joke
That makes me
Spit out my
Drink before I
Erupt in laughter
I enjoy most
In life being
Tickled a tickle
To me is
Like the finger
Of God on
My ribs reminding
Me that despite
Everything else I
Am still here
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 