A love poem

I think of you anytime

I come across old score keepings

From card games, folded newspapers saved

For the crossword puzzle

In different states of completion. It’s

Hard

To remember in this state of grace that 

We could ever gain so freely from nothing

And give so benevolently to it, as well.

Look at the numbers, blue and random now. Look at the 

Clues as they bury the dead elsewhere.