never thought I'd really be
here, without a phonecall.
The neighbors drinking wine in their backyard
and I have grown a garden
in this far away land.
Sometimes they share their wine,
and I share stories-
do I talk too much,
or is it just that
I have so many things to tell?
For someone so young, they say.
I still keep wanting to call her.
She should know about all this.
There is so much that's new.
He can't come and visit me either.
That won't happen. Of course.
My garden grows anyway,
because it's alive, and I'm alive,
and life is all around it and me.
Love, for one thing. I'm in it.
Who'd have thought?
She would approve.
He wouldn't care.
The church bells are chiming the time:
Medeival bells ringing on an electric timer.
My cat stretches, looks at me.
it's time to go to bed-
for someday, when I can go home again.