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- it all comes down to this
i hear you getting dressed
in the morning
the rustle of clothing
the sound of your belt
looping your jeans
is all.
your bare feet
padding into the kitchen.
clearing
your voice
for a whistle
then a hum
and a song.
a yawn
a stretch
a gesture of coffee
for me
then
your footsteps vanishing
down
the hall.
i know your voice
your sigh
your smell
your fingers through your hair
the most delicate sound of all.
you say the rootless
man
is a sad one
for
there is much purpose
in family.
i stare at my hands
wondering how
you found me
to
clasp them.
now your callused palms
are mine.
i smell books
linseed oil
dark chocolate
earth
lavender
tears
and sweat.
the scent
of a hard
and
happy
life.
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Walter Kitty's Diary 
Living the dream!
Yes you are.
So many missed morning for me. WHere was I? why didn’t I hear those sounds when she moved about her morning? Why wasn’t I listening?
Perhaps she made you tea? Start listening.
Nary let the varnish tarnish,
Story books old, retold…
Dreaming to live in a living dream
Akin to a painting bursting seams
Along the back of the frame stretched too tight it still swells bulging with all its might.
Pattering feet within the mind, bare canvas blight blind…
You’re the painter, the artist, the fool… strolling the road of Passion’s heavy load.
You paint for me, and I for you… vicarious living, living blues…
Help shelter the sounds of the night, an artist’s mind is an awful fright… dare to travel that path my dear…
I will walk my dream and steer far clear.
You’re an invitation for inspiration, Walter, keeping the dreaming alive… it’s too scary there, and I don’t dare, to walk, where I can’t bear to strive.
You are a pilgrim in the best sense of the word. A highly educated, passionate pilgrim with a taste for Twinkies and gin. Freeze your sperm!