rocks and eyes, greens and browns, and you.

It's easy enough,

to endear you with written rhythms,

I start with "not a single day goes by..."

and sprinkle in a little measure of time,

(it's love, so it'll be minutes and seconds)

and how in each little sliver of right now,

I'm infatuated to blissfull incompetence,

and, you know,

stuff about being unable to wait for tomorrow,

and blaming you for my chronic impatience.

'fraid not kiddo,

you're much too zen for my soul

to want to bare claws and teeth

and chew and scream and throw away at this moment right here.

(you see, and this is a secret!

right here, right now,

it's made up of all the moments before,

I've had, you've had, we had,

so if I'm sincerely in mine right now

in the work that unstales my thinking,

and the hardship that humbles my ego,

and the people that inspire my ambition,

then the next time we have a moment

it'll be the accumulation of learning

and growing,

and sharing,

instead of hollow wanting)

So my ditty for you, dear,

is that you are remembered

and celebrated,

and your spirit shared

in the work and people and thoughts that are in this moment,

and I'll share their spirit with you,

and be washed with yours made up of others,

when we have ours.

And oh, some Regina Spektor lyrics innit as well.