when, out in the front porch
i look up and it's raining flowers
petals softly kissing and vanishing into the fog
that envelops my feet. . .
when, in a dark room
your letters spill out of my inbox
and my glasses are missing . . .
when you call and i listen (fades)
but you never called, i did, once
your letters i read twice over,
i never needed glasses in a dark room
to save your photos to my desktop
it has never rained flowers
but only dry leaves in autumn
and the fog's never around my ankles . . .
. . . only inside my glasses, if you didn't know