Day 3.

Regrets fill the air at my cubicle - in retrospect
a colleague I once knew, still grows
to enormous to brush off as a mere thought
a spectacle beyond the glow of raised curtains

I'm certain (always in retrospect)
that she was worth more time than the shelf it rested on -
that I
would rather make-shift a telescope
and peer at her iris for a stare to retrograde my transgression

we wrote lessons in the form of stories and poetree
alone - in the solitude of passion
grown in a garden perched on a tree
away from the distraction of cement - I meant
to continue

don't wait for me - my friend

I'll catch up

Tuesday, August 11, 2009