Something old, something new

I've been in this doorway before, rolled in the night to see it all beside me, slowly waking me up several times a night and not being the least bit concerned. Decisions haunting me and too much time between evenings. I put away my laundry, languid motions, and listen for some voice from within my body to tell me where to go. As if it were as simple as my sock drawer versus t-shirts. His voice on the phone last night made me wonder, despite a slight buzz, whether I should make sure to keep him, since surely he was the kindest man I had ever been with. A totally unexpected apology, unexpected and utterly comforting. Knowing that earlier that day, his reaction had provoked a reaction in me, and I had spent my afternoon wondering if I had somehow upset him. Persistent calls to say "I'm Sorry" in person, rather than leaving a message on my machine.

The past few days have been a whirlwind of nothingness, feeling exhausted for no reason and placeless, directionless and alone. Missing mountains and fresh summers, wishing I knew where things were going to take me. No jobs, or rather, no idea where to look. For Sale: One intelligent, articulate, Oxbridge graduate. aka: a dime a dozen. Yikes.

Well I'll follow you wherever
When you lead me by my nose
On another big adventure- I suppose
Then you lay me down in clover
With their petals on my back
I should make some time
To do more things like that...

Won't you sing to me your poetry,
Won't you take me to your home,
Won't you be for me forever
So I'll never be alone
And just one thing...
If you're my queen...
Then it's a beautiful thing...

Well I'm buried in my bedroom
Under fourteen feet of clothes
I could drown in all this clutter I suppose

But then you're standing in my doorway
With a suitcase on your back
And it blows my mind
When you do things like that

Won't you sing to me your poetry,
Won't you take me to your home,
Won't you be for me forever
So I'll never be alone
And just one thing...
If you're my queen...
Then it's a beautiful thing...

Yeah, reminding me
Well I might be poor
But summers free...
For me, I didn't know I was sleeping

-- Sister Hazel, Beautiful Thing