I’d much 
rather be 
the me
that I
am than
the me
that I 
was for 
that me
was the 
you me
and this 
me is
little more 
than I

I have 
a hole 
where whole 
used to 
be and
now standing 
on the 
lip of
this crater 
I wonder 
if I’ll
ever get 
to the 
other side 

Early day whispers 
like a mistress 
into nights ear
don’t go yet
you and I
haven’t yet talked 
and night turns
looking back east
saying no but 
the west calls 
day is here 

Nothing’s wrong 
seldom is
but I 
retired from 
the wars
often wonder
if this 
now’s better 
nothing to 
do nowhere 
to go 
just this
and this 
then this 

I wonder if 
after a lifetime 
of love one 
settles in down
above or under 
the same or
if one rather 
than looking reaches
for not new
but the comfort 
of old familiar 
cup or glass 
fire and blanket 
spectacles and book
mind meant and 
set to wander