Few areas of my endeavors past- conquests, losses, stases, changes paper achievements moldered by aged neglect idle notions passed off as diligent action ornamental chariots speeding me to my living destiny offered heartbeats held in my hand, per my coy whim masculine star power on an occasional sliding scale of two, acceptance by my confederacy of stances sampled mindlessness to foster insightfulness witnessed societal movements created by motionless heroes hushed dreams, immersed in voluble nature at midnight the multiplication of human responsibilities by choice- none ever lifted my pall away or brought an honest smile as you do so simply lying here with me.
So it's easy. Good night, dear.
*Written when she wondered why I could. Now a tribute for someone who won't.
"Poems are never finished, merely abandoned." - Percy Bysse Shelley