Numbers

It's predictable
like #'s
one follows the other
the effect of the action
overflows its purpose
(ostensibly coffee)
a sure footed flight
from dimly lit office/cavern
you pass my window only in the
glory of your own beauty
(if as I see it)
- I can only hope that it is you
who possess it -
and my heart bee like
delineates a scattered path
in a pitter patter -hiccup-
pitter patter -hiccup-
time
that your mere sighting
should not create
for all the words we've
shared were thick and
clumsy and yet communicated
nothing,
or little
and
you
remain
a mystery
glittering in the sunlight
and
I inside
my tightly sealed jar
haven't
the time
to do
you
justice.

Damon Wyle

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