Doubts

Doubts

Always on her guard, wary
is my love. “maybe you can
find someone better than me”,
she reflects, although she’s like
like an appendage to me, an arm
or a leg, or a stream that brings

fresh krill to feed a hungry fish.
I feel her uncertainties: things change,
people die, mountains get blown away
by volcanoes. But the bad is that the
past always seem s to repeat itself,
broken relations so easily discarded

somewhat justify her insecurity and bolster
thoughts of impermanence. “Hi daddy”
she sings as she comes through the door.
“I’m here”. One learns that
dread of future catastrophe
is a suffocating carefulness that

spells doom and gloom. “Listen, my
mistrustful one, it’s too late to undo
what’s been done. Instead let’s make
breakfast-some bacon and eggs, and chat
of things that make us smile and laugh.
then go back to bed and cuddle”.