Somewhere, a child pretends to sleep—
eyelids fluttering in the nightlight’s
flannel glow—while an office worker
feigns wakefulness in his cubicle,
startling at each chirping phone.
Someone is catching a ball.
Someone is catching her breath.
Someone, somewhere is lingering
between this world and the next.
Things come and go. Things
go and go. Because of the ocean,
the sky is blue. Because of death,
we learn how to live. Or do we?
Someone, somewhere is saying I do.