Random Thought Bubbles

This is a fog lifting
The ships are docking
And the quiet of morning
Calm waters of yearning, over

The little boats partnered
And the men are reeling their nets
Catch of the day
In the bag

Yellow tinge over everything
Swallow calls inviting
Warm cooked meals
Of their wives
Comforting

In the space between
There is no longer a space
No loud noises to dirty the light
The remnants of yesterday
A history

Because of him, darkness is not scary
Night embraces the arms
Cricket sounds calm the senses
Black queit is no longer
White noise

And all the before
Was just a journey to
Invent this person into
That caterpillar
A butterfly

A year passes so easily
But the comfort makes
The flight, special
There is no more an I
How could there be

Music, music in the air
Always there
A ting tinkle, trinkle
Imaginary space
Filled

Completeness would be an
Understatement
Oh, oh, no words
Would be
Enough