Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Eight-Thirty AM

I can only put on
the rememberance ring
after the knuckles stop
their daily swelling.

In the room I call my space,
the display of my books
that only I can really see
has fallen into a heap.

The bathroom floor
may not be as wet as we
first thought
and maybe we don't need a plumber.

Happiness reigns
in this new place.
Peace may run like syrup
over the short years.


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