Weird and awkward, odd and strange;
a set of quirks as broad as a mountain range.
Never really fit in but can’t seem to fit out –
what, really, is fitting all about?
If I can’t fit here, there, now or then,
will I fit somewhere – and if so, when?
Yes, yes you will – the “when”, I can’t say,
but when you fit with yourself,
you’ll be well on your way.
Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth…again.
Spoken words and messages – confusion now, and then.
One of us atop a perch, the other down below.
Which one of us is where, we don’t really seem to know.
Oh, how I wish I could leave you
to tend the green ivy willing and winding its way
through each little split in the back fence
threading each paling its own lush, silky winter coat.
It is quite cold, today.
Have you learned how to sew?
You said you would.
The ivy never promised the fence.
You held the rope that rang the bell
on the day your shadow fell
from sun kissed pavement through the earth
to the core of what I’m worth.
Goosebumps are traversing the creases on my skin.
It is not because the wind has suddenly turned cold, but because you have.
Just Little Green Buttons 