Reasons Why

Ashes to ashes. Stardust to stardust.

Not something you can take with you

Exactly

But not something you can easily

Relinquish.

Grow claws just to clutch at it for a

Best-kept second more.

Only these minutes

And just enough leeway

In between to say

Give me more time - I’ve got a few choice words

Left.

Why write?

Why right?

Why do ravens appear at my door and why do I catch fish with such

Clarity when every

Disturbance in the universe (could be?)

Is caused by the tiny spoons with which

I measure

Moments?

And why should I be writing love songs under a different name

For myself

When I could be

Serenading the wreathed

Sirens that call me

As I go the distance before

Slumber?

There is no wonder more than this.