Monday, October 26, 2009

Wistful new and old...memories

It's the strangest feeling

to be anchored to a ship so far away

Sweet and deep and close and then

Bland and empty and uncomfortable.

Pathetic and below me, then

He is mine and I feel kind again

It's a small thing, a trinket brought by train

Too few words and too many...

It's I-love-you and Me-too and I-miss-you and I-know

It's the initial dance of the less-than-intimate yet

Today indelible and strong

Tomorrow, forced--then gone.

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