Vision
My sight is never
as clear and sharp as it is
when my eyes are closed.
My sight is never
as clear and sharp as it is
when my eyes are closed.
Sitting here distraught
Trying to think of why you’re
On the other couch.
A witty singlet,
with nary a wasted word,
makes a uni-verse.
A person like you
standing in the debris of
what once was a home.
Turkey, corn, stuffing,
yams, cranberries, covered in
melting candle wax.
Looking desperately
Seeking but not finding words
That rhyme with purple.
How long will it take
Before the weight of knowing
Finally leaves me?
Sleep is closing in,
Still her eyes strain to capture
The day’s waning light.