Look for me in the setting sun,
the skies aflame, and when its done,
look for me in the murky moon,
on a Stockton night in June.
Look for me when a loved one dies,
his passing brings forth teary eyes,
and yours are drowning in your stately sorrow.
Look regardless. My strength's for borrow.
Look for me when you aren't looking,
when you're sleeping, working, cooking.
Look for my inflections and my tones.
I'll be home, but I'll be home.
Look for me in a toddler's laughter,
in a novel's simple start-of-chapter.
Look for me in a classic's ending,
or a child's sleep-pretending.
Look for me in the early morning,
in the sun-rayed room's adorning,
as you wake up next to me.
Look for me. Look for me.
Look for me in a fly's soft drone
when you're reading all alone.
Look for me in a beer can's foam,
in a smile lit when I call your phone.
Look for me in a line you write,
without me in mind at night.
Look for me in your dreamlike stares,
when future's daunting prospects scare.
Look for me as the rain comes pouring,
the patter upon nature's flooring
becomes a splashing mud and leaves
a comfort - wet reprieve.
Look for me in a country song,
the twang of Tweedy won't be wrong.
Look for me in a winter's dark,
in frozen redwood's bark
as I stand with a deathstick ember,
by the bay in cold November.
Look for me, then,
out of the blue,
and you'll find that I
look back at you.
09.10.12
