SINGLE. SOLITARY. WORD.

Late-ish one morning, the heat like a blanket,
Your face is all mirrored and bright
I have wondered at my inability
To make my mind known every night.

It's all very well now you're leaving. You have
Plenty of things on your mind.
And I have the leisure of waiting to see
If I cross it from time to time.

And that isn't all that I'm thinking, you'll note
As my reverie comes to the point.
I'll be hanged if I'll allow loose ties to bind
Or a fancy to disappoint.

So go on and be what you're most willing to
Pay no mind to my whimsical thought.
For just as the others go thither and fro
I'd just as soon like you as not.

But it is worth the thought, I suppose, for now
So I linger to watch it grow.
And in the event that it does no such thing
I'll most eagerly let it go.

And even as words flow onto the pages
My eyes understand what they see
A few dozen attempts at a mock indifference
And hardly a word about me.

For it's easy enough to say all these things
Even easier to write them all down
The old heart, however, will wash them away
At a moment, a word, or a sound.

So i'll just be a tired young lady and sport
A big smile for all that I see,
But you are the one I'll be thinking about
When I lay down my pen finally.