Every day the pulley
would come up or down...

A musty shoebox
letters tied with faded bow...

Outside my window
a red scarf and bowler hat...

Then the wind changed
empty arms left behind...

The pavement their pitch
a busker and an addict...

the bed is empty
no jasmine nor lavender...

My love...steadfast
as a catamaran...

I became impatient
(with myself...

Waltzing copper leaves stir
whimsical notions of...

Outside my window
a naked fig tree shivers...