Another mug of coffee emptied,
and another day wishing it was spent mostly in bed.
Ice cream attempts failed,
but you fail to forget me.
Moping, i find a cornerstore, to buy a popsicle,
reach into my pocket looking for three quarters
and in my hand, appears
You: on a broken chain, assumed lost
a wooden Coptic cross,
Mother Teresa of Calcutta, and
Saint Anthony.
You remind me: i have company with you and the saints.
Today i am from the dust
and will turn to
dust again.
Today i feel ve
ry alone but am not
alone.
