hopeful dewdrop
and yet id never have found that alone
place, without your solitary shoulder
to cry on, your single handed one armed combat
to rely on, and your steadfast space
and unnecessary liberation
but how soon we forget
the path is lit, so well, even behind
eyes darkened with desire,
and yesterdays death.
I smile, but I think now
its more for the irony in embrace
than this seasons nectar
the bees buzz, but its just noise
to scare the birds away, which they did
but didn’t they know it was all just play?
all just to pretend
we don’t know how
and don’t know where
to go but everywhere, and every-here.
yet still
I desire.
and I’ll find myself sitting once more
beneath the palm, so still, so tall
waiting for last nights angry rainstorm, and this mornings
hopeful dewdrop
to fall.
