Friday, July 6, 2007

it's weird.
treating every moment
as if it were your last.

i can't imagine
being here
without you.
and your quirks.
all your habits.
it makes me sick.

i was looking at
a book of pictures
the other day.

i was on your shoulders.
you made me laugh.
i fell asleep
resting on your head.

we walked
around the lake
while glutons passed.

"he's asleep,"
they would say.

you still love
telling that story.