Writing

This song sounds like spring 
The joy we had 
Sitting in the grass
As it stained your white overalls 
That your mother embroidered 
With purple flowers 
Your favorite color

I can’t sleep 

I’ve been staying up past my time for days 

10 PM  

10:30 PM

Jumps to 11:30 in the blink of an eye 

To tell you

what fall is

if you didn't know

would be the task of a poet,

and even my best words

wouldn't tell you,

really.

I could tell you what it's like

to look up at the hills

I’m pale,

white as snow-

cold as your eyes. 

Ancient,

eroding,

creaking like a rocking chair,

or an old swing.

By the 1960s, 65% of all Americans owned a television.  In 1970, tele

Every time I close my eyes 
I hope to open them 
And see you again 
I wish to hear your voice 
For one last time 
Because I know I never will 

Every time I sleep