Spiders

No one uses the
Old spider web
In the park, anymore.
That tangle of red ropes
And metal claspes, reaching
For the tree tops, and the
Hidden moon.
There is only space
For two, up here
- Me and You.
From here, we can see
Through the tangle
Through the leaves,
Where we were.
And that where we are,
Is here.

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Stains

Coffee stains, on the
side of the mug
And I imagine where
your lips were
placed, here, at
this edge, of the
rim
I came too late,
the coffee’s nearly
gone.

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Back

And with a pen
In hand, you
Marked me, with
Inklings of today
That only
You can see.

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