she has a laugh like summer rain,
even when it's time for me to be gloomy again;
she thinks I'm funny
I think I make jokes
to try to keep trying to be sunny
when all of everything sizzles with pain;
when I wish that I had
another ticket for another train;
when I wish that I was not here, but there;
when I sag under the weight of life, unfair.
she's a little harbor for me,
a little nook where I can anchor;
a safe spot to be,
for as long, I hope, as necessary.
January 11, 2009.
Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.