Muse

Sanctuary 

Salvation 

Approaching sleep I ponder these

Lovely words popping into my head 

Beauty in silence and spaces…

So how old do you have to be

Before you can be 

Just a little crazy

And no one will notice, 

Except he notices

He does, and 

Imagines what he

No longer sees

Except he 

Does

What he thinks he sees,

Himself, is

What I think I see in 

Myself. 

Now here is a deep irony

Of confession: 

A few days ago these words were 

Gifted to me,

“I thought you were beautiful,” and 

In that moment of connection 

We were remembering a rafting trip

We took together on the Cheat

Friends, then

And in the long sighing 

Of decades lost not knowing 

That and 

Turning to the solace of 

I’d rather have what might have been

Than what was, 

I’m not sure what to do