What is over 
is over and 
what is done 
is done there’s 
no going back 
or asking for 
any more time 
for those things 
along with everything 
else already happened 
belongs to dust 
and to memory 

Some roots though 
shallow bring water 
whilst others burrow 
deeper to find 
some say deeply 
provides more security 
but I find 
my balance at
being at ground
and stretching out 
towards many others 

I remember once 
wading into and
sitting down in
a lazy river 
at first content
I felt a 
pull like something 
unseen was beckoning 
though nothing heard
I did go 
the way of 
of its flow 
and finally found 
my sacred ground 

Unpack put away 
oh so familiar 
of a dance 
of things similar 
memories and noodles 
sauces and oodles
of different moods
some to cupboard 
some to fridge 
some stuffed into 
boxes and carried 
up to attic 
but no upstairs 
here to climb 
out of mind’s
where they go 

And yet you 
couldn’t take thirty
seconds out of 
thirty two million 
to say hey
I’m doing okay 
just going through 
some stuff here 
baby I’d rather 
have been one 
ridiculously small slice 
of your pie 
than to have 
gone this hungry 
for so long