By fire and in line
we pass the time.
The dishes get done
in their sort of shine,
I feel you sparkle
on your very own side.
Under your wing,
You’re my favourite thing.
A young man found himself walking down a country road. In the distance, he could see the mountains. The presence and splendor of the distant peaks called him forth. The young man picked up his pace.
I opened my eyes, remembering that I need not close them in the first place. I had learned that rule in Sunday School and now I knew that it was just a rule to stop us from giggling. It’s just a formality and, these many years later, has the opposite effect as I find that there are more distractions with them closed.
Lonesome, busy with useless chores.
Not to notice. Not to know you.
To forget, not forgive. I am not these,
lost in the bliss,
I promise you this.