lying outside,
naked.
on a towel, on a chair, on a wooden deck atop cool soil.
reading, and being read, by the sun, and near it too.
its moving away from me now, away from all of us.
i cover up and go inside.
this is familiar.
i find the computer and a cat that purrs
i find nothing at all
and i write about that.
i feel the love of the people i know.
they've always felt much farther then they do now,
and i don't know why, but this moving in is pulling them nearer.
we're magnets, and i don't mind.
1 comment:
Feel the love of the people you know, and bask in it.
But the love of Imogen you don't know. Trust me. I mean you only good. Imogen's love, it is better not to know. Those who have made its acquaintance live long enough to regret it... and no longer.
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