Tell me something that counts

I will tell you something that counts

I think of you when things are well and when things are... (listen!)

when we two parted in hopelessness  and vain

I turned around       moaning     missing 

how could I not       like it or not

it was the best of times      it was the worst of times

talking of Michelangelo and being in Thai a pro

yes that was long ago - yes the memories still come and go

in the midst of all I saw the world in your sm(eye)le

and spring and summer and fall

infinity in the way you looked like home

(I must've wrote a hundred poems on the way you felt like home)

the way you looked sat all alone

how many secrets can you keep? 

(I wrote to you a dozen poems and read them on repeat) 

if there were no you how could poetry exist

(if there were no people like you how dare art exist)

a little lover always said

you're never forgotten once a poet writes for you

my gentle precious friend poetry was made for you

now what

you are not gone      never can it be

December is the cruelest month 

never! never can that be

dare not leave here       come let us plant a tree

come in under the shadow of our tree

I will offer you love in a handful of mud

(I will show you the world in a handful of mud)