I grew up in a house built in 1937 long before codes and regulations and sometimes

I awoke from a deep sleep and knew the reason was to write I love you

I say hello and you say nothing You may hear me you may even think of a response

There is a girl and I love her and I have loved her since the beg… Or so it seems to me as I only became conscious

I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back

The road is long and winding like nothing you can imagine Too many off ramps to count but too few in hindsight

Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another

I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making

All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life