found this in crystals book of poems and i can't stop thinking about it
Lately, I've become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus...
Things have come to that.
And now, each night I count the stars.
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.
Nobody sings anymore.
And then last night I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there...
Only she on her knees, peeking into
Her own clasped hands
i think it's about being lost. feeling hopeless. stuck. predictable. there's no adventure left anymore. like things won't change and you want them to, but you don't know how to start it. thats what it means to me. been a while since i had to look at a poem and disect it, and i won't do that with this one.