when comes the day
might be the last
of all the times between
wherever stars align
as fate revealed
when mellow
seems to be
the only way I know
to be…
when lonely wakes
to find the bed
is gone

when every plate is broken
and all my pages
bare
when light
that filled the porch
has worn away
to meld again with shadow
of a time before I knew
a day beyond our last
would come
to claim the rest
of you

. . .