Baby,
in all of your glory
I am bestowed upon thee
Baby,
in everything you are
I can’t forget thee
Because you
you are everything
you are everything
You are the broken hinge in the door
You are the cold coffee
on a Sunday morning
You are strangers met on the sidewalk
and photos
never seen again
You
You are a coin of gold
shining the glint of pavement
you are pages unwritten
forgotten to finish
And now,
you are a morning pick-up
a case of
How do I get home?
Can I come home with you?
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Wherever I am,
there is your home.
On sand under sawgrass
or
beneath the sea
or
above the hemisphere
you and me.
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