Sometimes I wonder if you're thinking of me.
Does anything remind you of soft skin and light hair?
Bright innocent eyes?
Is it airplanes overhead or the wind whistling?
Do you read lines such as:
"And even the Abstract Entities
Circumambulate her charm;
But our lot crawls between dry ribs
To keep our metaphysics warm."
And wonder if your split atom could move mountains with words?
I hope you'll hear the songs I sing and speak to me before
You leave this world.
When I see her happy I think of you, and it makes me glad
That I've grown up full of joy...
So thank you for that.
I hope you aren't half as bad as I often think you are.
Cliché
Maybe mine is a nice man...
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