by cricketjeff on July 13, 2010. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
piles of this and that;
and unremembered hopes
vie for space in depths
I didn’t know I had.
and half-started dreams
spin themselves into rhymes
and new tomorrows.
You are here,
you are always here,
around each corner
and under every pleasant surprise.
Work and play jostle each other,
get confused and merge together,
friends pop in, pop up, pop out,
smiles abound, and frowns and tears
try to stay out of sight.
I am here too,
all the mes,
there is the small and frightened me,
lost on some long forgotten shopping trip.
The proud new father
strutting his stuff.
The lover, the friend, the chance encounter;
we are all here,
busy moving the furniture;
searching for all there is to find,
For all that’s on my mind.
A couple have people have asked if “mes” in the second line of the fifth stanza is a typo for mess, it isn’t it’s the plural of “me” not a word that’s used very often