We thought it was nuclear war and wished we’d bought more water and planned for this

but instead it was just the life of some kid we didn’t know, not our own

And we went back to bed with the image of the make and model, a face behind the glass

And tried to find our place again in the book of dreams.

It is hard to care for all the orphans and strays in the world, but you can care for just one

Or you can care from a distance behind locked doors, safe inside heated rooms.

It is the way of the world to get between the seams and remind us we are always a part of it

Though it is not a world we often love, it demands we put down our books for it, we take the call.

Categories: poetry, writing

Tags: poem