So tonight I’m sitting, nearly alone,
Defying time by simply sitting, enjoying
The lights on the tree, when this thought
Comes to me: someday you will be sitting
In a room all your own, defying
Time (it’s kill or be killed, right?) by
Simply sitting still, and in that moment
You and I will be more closely linked
Perhaps than any other, though you will
Never see the room I see right now—
Not the tree, not the lights, the gritty
Window or the second-hand rug.
Well, I shrug. You will have your own,
And they their own, till light begat tree
Begat me begat you. And all along, the joy
Of being still, killing time, is yours, was mine.