So it came to a point when I needed a walk, I needed to walk and maybe gather my thoughts and perhaps let the night air clear my head, or just simply be able breath easy.

It’s cold, colder than most nights, at least.

So, I walk, with no destination in mind, since it seems the clutter is still there and there is no space for anything else much less a destination or  even some vague indication of where I’m headed.

It occurs to me walking from point A to point B requires the latter but I can hardly care which point or what point or what is the point or what the point is meant to denote, connote or the variety of possible symbolisms available for me to choose from.

Save for the occasional passing car, my flip-flops on the pavement make the only noise against the wind rustling tree tops.

Street lights are stranger when they are only there for you.

I’m thirsty.

I need a drink, that’s where I will go.

I tire of this mortal toil,

Won’t you please

Take me home

Where I belong.

Behold, a king
acquainted with his
tears
confident on his throne
and mighty in battle
but
broken, in his
chambers.

So it has come
to this.

I will hold on
to He who cannot be moved,
my Strong Tower, my
ever-present help in time of need.
And though, I may
cry out, with my being,

I will not be swept away.

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.

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.

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

The hard part
Starts, after
I kiss you
Goodnight.

And if my head 
Is filled with you,
How do I turn
To other things,
When the thought
Of you, won’t
Let me go.