Some days are like this
You settle down
in the quiet
alone
by the gold page
but nothing
not a word
You wait
with the patience
of bone
to be brought back to life
still nothing
no declaration
You tend
to the silence
and welcome
the absentee landlord
the break from sound
the effortless calm
The gold page
waits with you
bare, unclothed
like cold shadows
empty of own-self-being
linger in the lane alone
Some days are just like that
