You’ve been pushed 
put and placed
behind the others 
on some shelf 
out of sight 
frequently forgotten rarely 
remembered until if
and never when 
I stumble across 
like a book
in a nook 
or a treasure 
bought in leisure 

It’s in these
wee hours when 
looking upon thee
thinking of me
I truly be 
in this time 
you are mine 
I am thine
and this kind 
of thing is
what dreams tis
be made of

Funny now this life
having spent half of
it with someone now 
no longer I feel 
like an egg bobbing
about in boiling water 
not quite certain whether 
or not I’m cooked
and if so can 
I still be enjoyed 
the way I am 

Life is funny
this little comedy
that we play 
so much spent
in little minds 
pieces we move
this way that 
thinking we’ve won 
when in fact 
mostly we lose 
to play again 
so it goes 
our little joke 

Huh hmm
this lacking
but not 
missing him 
not much 
shine true 
some glimmer 
gone too
but this 
old copper 
kettle is 
happy with 
his bloom