Three in the morning
A perfect bright full moon
Everything happens in time
When I go back inside
I slide into bed beside my daughter
I breathe in her warm hair
I wish she would always be small
I wish she would always be my daughter
I wish she would always be
I admit I wish I would always be
So I could go on knowing my girl just as in these days
 I only ever halfheartedly longed for enlightenment and eternity
It was nothing compared to this

Poem About Nothing
a poem by Wayne Dodd

This is a poem
about nothing

about something
this is a poem

about someone standing
someone lying down

somewhere with doors
closed, doors

open: people are eating
breakfast perhaps: their faces

are peaceful
with chewing

with tasting
sharp smells rise up

from the street, rise up
from beds, from carseats

men and women are walking
they are all going somewhere

else: their arms
swing, their legs

swing
from their hips their clothes

hide, their clothes
reveal:

there are always secrets
among us someone is lying down

somewhere or else
someone is standing up

the doors there are open
the doors there are closed