I believe 
that people 
become what 
they’re meant 
and not
by chance 
or choice 
or charge 
we are
just flowers
all having 
been planted 
long ago 
before we 
ever knew 

Eyes behind lids
even barely seen 
lights behind blinds
many little dots
hand behind head 
combing through hair 
breeze behind curtains 
barely even breathe
hand atop heart
feel it pacing
cars in dark 
hear them racing 
lips on mine 
taste their morning 
sun just rising 
on the horizon 

I love being 
in one room
and imagining another 
like each little 
place is somehow 
somewhere else Paris
Bali or London 
kitchen definitely London 
with kettle tea
and coffee living 
room is Paris
cozy and continental 
and the bathroom 
is my Bali
with rain showers 
and orchids adorned 
I love living 
in this world 
of my own 
calling it home 

Hurt runs around 
the house closing
curtains and locking
doors battening down 
certain of storms
pulling me down 
deeper into cellar
waiting and waiting 
and hearing none 
hope jumps to
feet throwing open 
windows and doors 
saying look here 
nothing to fear
it’s all clear 
come on hurt
live a little 

It doesn’t matter 
how far you’ve 
come or how 
far there’s left
to go what 
matters is that 
you are here
for then and
when means little 
if your here
is patently unclear 
each and every 
place that you’ve 
ever been or
ever will be 
is the start