Morning

A strange thing it is to be missing Morning from your life;
I've forgotten what a Morning looks like.
It's not that I refuse to visit
I just can never find the time.

Though, I'm sure Morning is doing just fine.

Home

I haven't been home for ages.
I wonder if my door still squeaks when it's opened
Or closed,
Forsaking all my efforts of walking on tip toe.

Indifferent

Keep your glances for another time,
Please, collect them for me.
Embittered gazes
On display in glass cases
In groups of three.

Finding Passion

It's easy enough to sit idly
A type of waiting
Without angst.

Oh, how one day spills into another
Such an agreeable blend.