I sometimes wonder 
if the space 
between my thoughts 
and its silence 
is what attracted 
you to me 
the gap between 
where you watched 
me wander away 
and if it’s 
that you wanted 
to come along 
but knew you 
couldn’t and so
quietly stayed behind 
content in hearing 
of my adventures 

The house 
always wins
taking my
attention away
like crickets 
yet unseen 
but heard
chirping away 
this needs
doing and 
that too
and all 
the while 
you stay 
in pajamas 
and repose 

In early eve
as things slow 
and even the 
clock’s chime longs
into it’s bong
start of night 
gives its pause 
most never notice 
moments as these
when the shadows 
of day past
roll quietly up
and far away 
lights in kitchens 
show figures moving 
and standing about 
what’s for dinner 

I spent years 
not wanting to 
this and that
what I learned 
is all those 
this’s and that’s 
just pile up 
like snow drifts 
caught in corners 
now I do 
especially when I 
don’t want to 
knowing that now
is when I 
must not later 
for later is
always much worse 
this and that 
are wily foes

Like the air
inside a balloon 
I know it’s 
me that carries
us up there 
you’re the thing 
that keeps me 
from disappearing into 
nowhere but here 
it’s true then
that a book
despite its wisdom 
is little else 
than random paper 
without its binding 
holding it together