collection of thoughts

when will
i be
(ho)me?

you
take
a-part
(of) my
soul

i am afraid of the
emptiness that fills
thing when you
are gone

 

quiet like the golden pears ripening

in a green and white bowl

on my desk,

still like the winter buds

on the bare tree outside

my window, and the magnolias in the front.

these slow and beautiful measures of time,

 secretly as wrinkles form around

eyes young and the moment

a freckle

appears - easy to miss.