It is the last 
few of almost everything 
and everywhere and everyone 
that I surely miss 
long before I go
every time I went 
for all those things 
that for so long 
or for so short 
weren’t just there but 
will also be here 
until and at last
others will replace them 
making always more every

I wish
it was
just one 
thing for 
one thing 
I would 
hardly miss 
but it
is many
and many 
makes more 
than I
will ever 
find again 

As you sleep 
I shall write 
imagining you on
some far off
lake oars in
hand skimming across 
the waters of 
your dreams mist
and fog hang
like gray sheers 
that open as
you pass through 
and at last 
reach the shore 
only to find 
me smiling you 
cup in hand 
asking you calm
or rough seas

Funny how 
the millstones 
of yesterday 
have become 
the milestones 
of today 
and how 
the rock
that was
tied round 
my neck 
is the
one upon 
which I 
sit now 
and wonder 

It is only 
a dream when 
kept to oneself 
for when others 
join in to 
the madness of 
the moment the
same dream becomes 
what some might 
call true love