When a part is made
In the plains of folly and foibles
We see what we are made of,
Messy and perfection.
About times and how they sing
Like a dead bird
We all are barely
And that isn’t saying much
About us and our care
But it tends to speak volumes
About how much so little can be
How you and me
Staking claims in each others otherness
Brings us to our perfect scuffed knees
I make a day and some odd hours
Of counting new memories with you
Laying down curled into a self wound coil
Slipping through the mattress
And waiting for the winterlove to take us away
Cold wisps of air beckons you closer to me
Oh love bury yourself undercovers
Until you are here buired with me.
