By Larry Chamberlin, 09 September 2016
As the day returns
to the sea of becoming,
the bed that calls to me
carries emptiness,
save for dreams which lie
with false projections,
as if you'd not flown away.
Two in the morning
drinking decaf again;
hating that king-sized
torture slab of cotton
and memory foam
that gives no comfort.
When you are not here
guarding my present,
ghosts stream by the bed
from pasts that like as not
never really were.
Yet the pull is strong
to lose myself in reverie
like an octogenarian
denying himself potential
I find sight tunnel-visioned
and firmly ensconced
at the rear-view mirror:
"Warning, things may appear
closer to reality than they were."
I need you to call me back to us.
© 09 September 2016 Larry Chamberlin, Chamberlin Law & Mediation
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