Tuesday, August 18, 2009


My dreams miss me.

I startled awake,
And left them weeping their weaving tale.

I almost cried
When I stepped outside.
The moon globed in the west.
But with no glasses gracing my face,
I couldn't make out its detail.

Is it the same with you sometimes?
You step away from me,
And tires spinning have crushed the lenses
Which bring things into focus.

I can see the oval of your face,
But can't distinguish
Between the way your mouth moves
To make an 'O' sound
And the way it slowly

comes to a sad close.