going around in circles

the lone bangle

that dangles from my wrist

is all i have of you.

in it

the circle of life.

yours.mine.

which is but the same.

i am you.

i wonder

if i am floating in heaven

right now

and you are scribbling this

as the bangle scrapes

against the coarse paper.

once again,

the bangle.on the wrist.

does the wrist

hold the bangle?

or is it the bangle

that encompasses the wrist?

life's deepest questions

lie in this,

the lone bangle

that dangles from my wrist.