i feel hollow in my limbs
as if all the life blood
has been drained out of me.

i have no task today
so i face the void of possibilities
and race through all of the lost ones
in my mind.

we could have done this and that
i could have made him tea
a salad
a painting
or at least a study of one

nothing like the butterflies in the window-
warplanes morphing into beautiful little flowers with wings
free to travel in the dappled sun
free to dapple the sun
with their wings

little creatures of nature
so easily anthropomorphized
into symbols of sweetness
and love.

all the time we could have spent
instead of spending none at all.


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