Arctic Postcard

I count button holes as if they mattered
I’m always one off despite my efforts
Sitting inside bundled up and tattered
It’s November and I’m wearing shorts

Wood floors remind me my feet are cold
My favorite socks now have holes
Humanity’s story is being retold
I can feel run-down emptiness in my sole.

I read captions now because I can’t hear
As the sounds fade to a whisper in the wind
I’m transfixed by my portrait in the mirror
Leaving my postcard to you never to send

Dear nobody I’m writing to you
Wishing you’d listen to my song
Who you are I wish I knew
I’ve been counting button holes for far too long

~DaLe 12/28/08