A Collection of Nothings
Odd bits and scraps that never found a home.
A trip to the end of the universe (and back),
is exactly what the Doctor prescribed,
He said a profound amount of stardust I lacked,
and without it, he feared, I would die.
Your silver fine,
I lay supine,
pensive, to gaze at you.
Aloft you pull my thoughts along
as you streak the midnight blue.
How beauty fades
but yours will stay
imprinted on my eyes,
never to be seen again
except within my mind.
Ode to a little bug who alighted upon my computer screen one late night slash early morning towards the end of May (2010).
Oh little bug, with tiny wings,
alighted upon my computer screen,
I know you are drawn to the light,
but I’m afraid I must ask you to take flight.
I do not want your tiny feet
leaving tiny marks on my computer screen,
you obscure my vision, though small you be,
and I find your presence quite distracting.
I’ve been most polite, and I’ve asked you to leave,
but you’ve turned a deaf ear to all of my pleading.
I’m afraid your prolonged presence I cannot allow,
Oh little bug, I must squash you now.
“Careful, or you’ll lose your way,”
he used to always say.
“Do climb high, do risk it all,
but be prepared to fall.”
His gripping eyes,
he’d look into mine,
and I always felt so small.
I want to grow butterflies like flowers,
and watch them nodding in the sun for hours,
their petal-wings glittering like little galaxies,
fluttering slowly in the warmth of the summer breeze.
And Dear, whenever you will get the chance
I hope that you will stop, not pass,
but repose with me and watch the butterflies
with rapt attention and gleaming eyes.