Grass

To wake and smell cut grass, is to know you have missed the dawn,

That open silence before the sun takes charge and starts the day.

In all the thoughts I dream at night , there are many too hard to hold.

Among them are the moments of life I share with you,

Tenuous, fragile, incomplete, a friendship borne on the air,

Yet hope is always in my mind that it will someday be real

You are the stick that beats my brain, the pain I long to bear

For without that urging onward, I would not be here.

Passion died so long ago, that now it cowers low and makes

Me feel so scared, of being who I want to be, uncertain that I can.

I feel I borrowed passion from your soul and cannot give it back.

You made me see the better life, that I cannot share, with you,

For I love and hate you, want and need you, avoid but have to hold you

All of these are never real, just dreams I should not have,

So I have to be content, as you are, with what I have and own.

Sweet nothing is all I have, bar dreams, to keep me breathing

Day on day, night on night until that final dawn arrives.