Inbox

Browsing through my inbox
looking at messages from before,
a while back and really long ago,
Kept them to remind myself
of emotions I once felt
and never want to let go.

With erosion caused from time,
these words becomes fragments
and empty husks of history.

Going through the archives
allows me to be back to track
from knowing where I came from.

I favor writing in the night
where all around is quiet
save for clocks ticking away.

My surroundings become my sanctuary,
some ideas come to see a rest
and we have tea together.

With tea and chatter,
they hung around a little
and hurried the night away.

Once a while we go all quiet
then we know its time
to bid each other goodbye.

Its going all quiet now
and my yawning closing in,
it's time.