Three Hundred and Sixty Four Days

One day I kept outside.
One day for airing out the grievance.
One day to bathe in the holly water.
One day I’ll talk of nothing.
And I’ll sail Elsewhere and make out with fairy men.
I’ll gift them fallen leaves,
and tell them how pretty they are.
They are pretty,
like ancient trees.

I’ll talk of nothing.
And I hope no one listens.
There are very few people in Elsewhere.
Elsewhere is a lovely place.
Where trees don’t bend to make out roads.
Roads bend and take detours.

I hope my canoe and shivering books,
find the courage to stay up late and look.
There’s no boundary in Elsewhere, you see.
No one asks Why and Where.
Though you may, sometimes, hear the How.
I like the How.
Not as aggressive as Why, and not as insecure as Where.

One day.
I’ll talk of nothing.
And hope no one listens.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s