twenty plus days and nights as well
been silent right through the holidays
took a run at some office
still don’t know how bad the loss
grandfather passing hard enough
twenty some days and bunches of hours
spent wasted on being busy with whatever
thoughts piled up against the wall
the days of Bickford’s are gone
although the grill still poses as one
nothing like before probably closes at eleven
twenty minutes from now eyes could be closed
as well as should be if eyes grown weary
in the day new experiment in the mind
silent like the wind barely moving the trees
in the yard still too warm for winter
hardly a complaint but something isn’t quite right
as the moon has been left dipping below
the tree line view twenty days
worth of pages blank as if written by a mime
unheard of eye know he might
be hiding something again…
