the words

the words
so faint now
at three am
with a glass
or three
of Jameson
to add to the haze
that is memory
here there
somewhere
a voice fades
in out
and time
that old bandit
robs me
once again
of the words

the questions

there is a world
out there
beyond the window screen
and as he feels
the breeze brush his face
on this mild winter day
he wonders
what would life be like
outside the safety
of this house
and the cat
looks back
at me
as if I had
all the answers
to all the questions
in both of our heads