The only 
answer that
you’ll find 
is the
one that’s 
within you
and if
it’s not 
then there
really isn’t 
a question 

It’s always 
been the
high notes
I hear
the twinkling 
I imagine 
snowflakes sound 
and stars
also make 
and eyes 
that catch 
only mine
do say

In this now
I am grateful 
I have little 
less than me
but this that
I do makes 
all the rest 
seem oddly unnecessary 
when one has 
one no longer 
needs the other 

Funny how 
the mountains 
this morning 
resemble candy 
strawberry peaks
chocolate timber 
vanilla foothills 
after the 
snow fell 
all wrapped 
in the 
paper clouds 

Is it 
love or
loved too
do such 
things expire
only to
exist again 
or is
it over 
when it’s 
just one 
why do 
people have 
tickets for 
love that 
have never 
been punched