Here in the northeast
I ascribe different origins
To the feelings and emotions I have.

Were it
Could I
Would we?

Leave me under the pleasing
Crook of the stairs
That lead to your room

And tender moods settle
With gentle mind
And a simple dinner made well.

Back nestled together
On cushions next to
Lamps and cradling emptied mugs.

Gingerly listening to friends
Turning in and closing
Bedroom doors for the night.

8/21/16

The first thirty minutes of April 21st, 2016

Weird how it passes,

The nights and the mornings,

Ripple beneath my conscience.

I assume I want it to last,

But aren't I hoping it brings

Something that hasn't come yet?

I continue to look and examine,

My hands, still here resting,

They're a little shakier these days.

But I remember judging

And knowing even in my teens,

That I could never be a surgeon.

Luckily I instead work in cafes,

Late in the night drinking

Coffee and smiling at the staff.