In the stillness of the morning,

as the stores yawn open and people

sweep yesterday’s dust from their walks,

I am forgotten.

Rabbits and badgers walk nature’s course,

Foraging, running, surviving,

and I am forgotten.

The mountains begin their day-song,

the sun stretches its fingers on street corners,

but I am forgotten.

I wedge a note in an old door jamb

for the the piano player

with the blue eyes that searched for me,

and know I am forgotten.