I grew up in a house built in 1937 long before codes and regulations and sometimes

I feel empty unceasingly until you come along and fill my heart to bursting

There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze

I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face

I say hello and you say nothing You may hear me you may even think of a response

You were the wind beneath my wings but I was Icarus so all I did

I have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows

The road is long and winding like nothing you can imagine Too many off ramps to count but too few in hindsight

My heart was paper
 now folded six times over
 to make it harder
 to tear
 I only hope that


All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life