I watched you work
Far into the night
A lantern lighting your work
Your pencil scratching
Against the paper
Your eraser tapping the desk.
Deep in your thoughts
A world existed
Of figures and columns
I didn’t understand.
The world outside your window
Was lost to the mist
As your lantern burned low.
Each night I would sit
By the fireplace
Listening to the world go by.
The traffic and the rain;
I could hear you tap to their rhythm
While the world took you further away.
And, now you’ve become
A part of your desk.
Your eyes only see numbers
And the pencil has become
An extension of your soul.
The papers you write
Are maps to your world…
A world not meant for me.
January 19, 1988
Tags: Poetry
