Our Reality is never to be found
placed where we left it.
We return
in alarm or calm to
search for the proverbial
and the homes are emptied

Reality fine-tunes itself
to ordeals of time and space.
I find it funny how we cultivate.
Crops before our time
and
intriguing how we meet our own words
As if they were an old friend
yet still we have not even spoken one