Average Rating 0.00 (0 votes) You must login to vote I haven't figured you out yet, But you make me glad to leave The lonely path I've been on. A trip to your house convinced me I was tired of kicking rocks, Slicing the air with orphaned sticks, And keeping my eye on the horizon, Hoping, ever watchful for a companion. You are rumpled and lived in, Messy but mindful, Lonesome, yet never really alone. You're all there, Nothing's really been lost In sweaty horses on a warm afternoon In December, or a frigid, quiet evening Watching movies. I am happy when you call, Lost in you and the possibilities, Waiting to see what is inspired in you By me, and in me, By you.

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