wb :

first a little
in the mornings when you wake up
and discover that the spawnlings of worries
have taken up residence and bred in your sheets
and your sleepy mouth sour with the filmy milk of what ifs and should haves

afternoons are terrible. the sway of a leaf
becomes in one terrible instant the sway of jeans on a hot school day
or the shadow - the silhouette of a smile
a breeze is the memory of a past kiss.

evenings - quiet roads now ring with longing
no more solitude but emptiness
long shadows - a quiet play only for your audience
the puppets secretly laugh at the living

it hurts but then the next foot falls
and your shadow lags behind a step
and, tarrying,
hurries to catch up


adam