Life is
filled with 
little trinkets 
and treasures 
meant to
tickle and 
amuse it’s
the little 
things that
mean most 
and overlooked 
when chasing 
the grandiose 
and grand 
just because 
something is
elusive doesn’t 
mean that 
it’s better 
likely it’s 
just a 
fickle pickle 

I’ve become 
that man
up early 
laundry started 
standing on
deck coffee 
in hand 
what ever 
happened to 
him who
staggered home 
at this 
hour ready
for day
to start 
his night 

Toss and turn 
like stones in
a tumbler grit
to smooth edges 
hoping to shine 
but little sleep 
and less success 
legs move beneath 
blanket like they’ve 
got somewhere else 
needing to be 
waiting for sun
coffee to make 
laundry to start 
and then maybe 
after all that 

Dare I 
do I 
must I 
go there
can’t I
just wish 
it’s always 
the same 
miles between 
me and
my coffee 
be it
in winter 
or summer 
such are
these long
distance relationships 

And it dripped 
like a torture 
slowly and methodically 
and mercilessly dripped
drop by drop 
and by degree
it’s depth worming 
its way in
like a needle
meant to relieve 
but instead it 
covered and absorbed 
turning white to
pink to red