For What its worth
I wondered of you when
I rose early to sit
In the pressing darkness of a morning,
The violet textured walls,
And the steady drone of the coffee maker
Hazily occupying the cool concrete
Atmosphere of my kitchen
Lingering below the flow of some Billie Holiday song
That makes my heart fill and tug
The box of black and white prints
I accumulate
To gaze at
On occasion
To see progress of my life
And to try and recapture
Those infinite moments
I grasp for so desperately
I thought also
Of the crystal wine glasses
Hovering in rows side by side
In their nook above the oven
Pondering if they had been
Friends
All those years or if they had
Become
Cold translucent strangers there
To tolerate one another
Until someone arrives
To befriend one for a while.
Can they be both known
And unknown to each other
At the same time
Like us.
Me at this bar beneath my Grandmother’s crystal
In the budding glow of morning
A solitary person yearning,
Over a pile of photographs
You somewhere
Ensconced in your dreams,
Never to read this.
