Cabin Fever

Where's Home?

12/6/02

The watermelon sky of 6pm in May,
when nights are colder and the day burns
with virginal summer heat, knows
I can't help but think about being with you again.
My head swore to my heart
that things wouldn't go on for so long,
but optimism hides in my premonition.
Someone out there has to have a hope for something;
if I'm to believe in anything,
why not it be you?
Even if you failed me before,
I never stopped learning
and I never gave up searching.
Your lights still guide my day
and the slow, thoughtfulness of your speech still pulls me
closer
and closer
to where I need to be.
It is in that moment,
that May day,
when you and I were at home,
experimenting with functions that would later
turn into adorement for me
and anguish for you.
And down through the years we traded
and never understood the parameters of what we concocted together
when trying to figure it all out for ourselves.
Now, locked in closets,
are keys to the two most dangerous elements
that when combined
can cause all the panic, danger, change and misguided musings
love can offer.
What is yours and what is mine,
after years gone by?