\"Your turn or mine?\"
\"I think you went last time, I\'ll go.\"
He slips from the bed and pads into the kitchen. The blinds are up but he doesn\'t move to shut them: it\'s late and dark,
Working to build
a new life
for myself
I find
like ancient people
I search
among the ruins
for stones
that can still be used
salvaged
to create something new
lasting
solid.
In turning
It really is a matter of perspective.
The morning air is still dim and cool
the birds I can hear
almost seem to be whispering about something
that has yet to happen, and if it does
they will
