Antoine de Saint Exupéry

you cover me
in gentle expressions
and subtle verse
you pick me up
just enough
with beautiful words
and the simplest
of all illusions
sometimes i go away
just to see you again
and i sit in the corner
there i find you
all is muted
but you are bright
so bright and so
you cover me
nothing is more
beautiful than
what you created in
an ugly world such
as this one
such a big spot
that forgets

fête

there is little better than opening
a book, words that jump out at me
and bring me in for a while
to their pages and within them i find
the answers that satiate
most of my confusion
about everything, really-
everything is a question
and if the book happens to be
of many years past that is quite
more powerful because the
smell and the yellowing edges
tell their own story of what
began long ago and has not
found an end because this
is more than just a moment
no, it is far more than that
it is many moments trapped
between two covers and sealed
so delicately and decorated with
words that move without shifting
and explore without leaving the
warmth of this bed and the sound
of the drops is a constant symphony
perfectly orchestrated for this party

a celebration
of this book and of me
the words, the pages
rain