Domain

The days are so quiet I feel
I must fill them like a void
needs content, but I do not:
I skirt the rim around them
and read
and think of you - all the things
you would say to me of
how and what to do - how
to grapple them to me
and use them for myself

I stand on the dock, long, long,
looking at the great ship
tethered to the wood, sails
furled - how far it carried
me;  I have not explored
the world beyond the jetty
and doubt I am equipped
for new terrain

when all is unfamiliar
and the hours I do not know
who I am and what
is the game

the time I beg and borrow
in this new land
my domain

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