Now I Become Myself. It’s Taken Time,

Try Making A Poem As If It Were A Table, Clear And Solid, Standing There Outside You.

We Only Keep What We Lose.

For After All We Make Our Faces As We Go Along.

Routine Is Not A Prison, But The Way Into Freedom From Time.

She Became For Me An Island Of Light, Fun, Wisdom Where I Could Run With My Discoveries And Torments And Hopes At Any Time Of Day And Find Welcome.