Without calling, you come
as the world to waking.
Right in the middle of everything,
you tell me the story of myself.
Its not one I want to hear;
All about me, and I, and how this is that.
I've heard it a thousand times before.
This body tenses as you go on and on
Without any sense for grace,
And I long for what its like without you.
So I feel a few breaths
Sit back and smile
Fewer interruptions
Suddenly joy
Roses wither in the sun
Blooms restrained but straining
A little mystery all about with
Wind fluttering the curtains