and that is good
just plain good
i was going to
write of home
of how he took
me by the hand
and said let's go
home - but now
it is needless
to go home
to a place
of this existence
is not home - it is
a folly - believed
by me - i am home
when he holds
my hand, or when
i read your poem
or when i kiss my
child, in a dream
of dream that i live
my existence is - for
gotten - he has gone
home, you have typed
a last word to pack
up, my child has built
a box for valentines
and i am no where about
that is home - a pebble's throw in a child's hand
