begonia avenue

this night is lonely
and with you
lonelier still

I fidget with gadgets
which range across
colour and proportion
stained with hues
of years spent battling
against time
and ourselves

try crawling under
the blanket
when cub and home
come calling
and leave me wondering
why homesickness
strikes but surely
even as you lie
right there

home is after all
you
and nothing
at once

it is then
that this crazed thing
my mind
takes me to the cold
pane of the window
that I don't open
for its creak
I wait long enough
marking the unmarked horizon
and for three trucks to pass by
before finding the
will and melancholy
to want to
date stamp this
into foreverness