It’s a quiet 
kind of day
where sheets brush
and then hush
as happiness is 
found tucked between 
where you and 
I whisper stories 
of grand adventures 
as fingers linger 
and kisses come 
stay here mystery
a while longer 
as winds stronger
start to blow 

Modest and grateful 
I count blessings 
they don’t blame 
but remind me 
what I have 
and never need 
or ever want 
to take stock 
takes away concern 
for grace comes 
to favored souls 

Having spent years 
no not wasted
invested and saved 
I then spent 
and I squandered 
squeezing and wringing 
out what’s left 
and finally lost 
in the losing 
and it’s loss
I found something 
that I’d forgotten 
a little locket
tucked away under 
and behind beneath 
and inside me 

I have tried 
to be my
own eraser rubbing 
out the mistakes 
of my past 
with such verve 
as to tear
the very paper 
upon which I
wrote my answers 
now I sit
content knowing that 
I did my
best and accept 
that whatever grade
I do get 
is given by 
those self assigned 
as my teachers 

Do not be 
so very sure
for every icicle 
becomes a drip
and every drip
a drink and 
every drink turns 
into an ocean 
one is never 
what one appears 
be it cloud
trickle or drop