#1

Reader, I tidy up my bedroom

And made the bed neat every morning,

And everyday, eating must happen,

And so the dishes, dirtied, get washed so

That tomorrow, darling, the toast and rice

And vegetables get them all messy--

This is no new thing.

I will try again.

#2

For but a moment, dreamer dear, a golden hue

Will possess leaves on nearly every green tree:

Dazzling, and then their leaves they will eschew--

Until the spring, that is, when tender buds agree

To see a winter dying from oak, elm, not yew,

For this metaphor isn’t quite clean with a conifer.

#3

If time flies by, is it a bat or

a bird? A gnat or a

butterfly? In the best

of times, a gnat

lives about a week,

the weakling gnat.

Darling devotee, the

calendar on my wall is

printed on paper from

a tree whose lifespan

would make you feel

like a gnat. The baby

is born so that it will

one day die, and die

it does, and die do you,

And, Dreamer, Reader,

so do I. 

#4

You knew that already. And you live anyways.

I’ll come too. We’ll walk ‘til the end of our days.