Two Lips
Originally Posted by Marcus Aurelius
Tulips (Sylvia Plath)
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do ...
(a friend died a couple hours ago, way to early than should have,
but also later than was expected. I have things to do elsewhere.)