A Collection of Nothings Pt. 2
There was some shadow under yours eyes,
some lingering ghost that sheltered there,
and when you blinked it disappeared
like a thin vapour dissipates on the air.
But I think the ghost still haunts your steps,
though you walk so far from home.
You welcomed it with open arms
so that you will never feel alone.
Sometimes I worry how your interest waxes and wanes
and I wonder if your love does too.
It often seems to me the case,
unlike my love for you.
Stay Away From Vacant Lots (A Cautionary Tale)
The vacant lot at the end of the lane
was wild and growing with weeds,
with columbines and Queen Anne’s Lace
and many unwanted things.
At one point I suppose a house stood there
and a family must have lived inside,
but now quite alone and even more overgrown,
it was a sore sight few could abide.
But my ill-advised self found it charming,
though I couldn’t for certain tell why,
in the end I regret stepping foot on that ground
and I’d regret it the rest of my life.
So let me rid my bones of this story,
it takes but one brief line to tell,
for the facts did and do stand as this:
in a grave there my body now dwells.
A dripping faucet lacking subtlety,
I ran to you and tripped, but luckily
the ground was so soft upon landing
I still ponder why everyone’s standing.
I couldn’t scratch the surface with a spade,
though I laboured and toiled for days.
What was that they said? “Still waters run deep.”
And so do your thoughts when you’re trying to sleep.