There is a yard

And a great tall tree

Instructing what to draw and write

There is a fence of chain

Between the lilacs and me

There is a garden

That only grows dirt

And weeds that scrape my hands

There are apples too sour

Laying bitter on the brown grass

There is a swing

That lets me fly

There is a past

I do not know

There is a self

I cannot see

There is a future

In a fog

There is the sun

Unchanging and steady

There isn’t explanation

Or assurance

For secrets I can’t handle yet

Are discussed behind closed doors

Someone makes my decisions

There are dandelions

I pick them like the girls at school

I try to weave them

But they fall apart

There is a flooded sandbox

And a suburb of ants

There is a missing person

Although the only one I can think of

Is me

I can’t remember when I laughed

I probably did

There is quiet and stillness

There is the expanded universe above

It seems much smaller now

There is no screen to see the world

Other than my eyes

The only virtual place

Is in my mind

There is no yard any more

I never see trees or dirt

There is light that changes often

I discuss secrets behind closed doors

There is still a missing me

I don’t know if I will ever find

I bear my thoughts alone

But they are not thought by me

There is something…

Something I have missed.