Front Stoop #2

For years and years I guess I was lonely, 
But refused to call it so,
 Now out on the front stoop in September with Kim, 
Drinking a beer in the sun,
 When she asks “Nick are you lonely?” 
I don’t even flinch and say “yeah”,
 I could say a thousand other things but why,
 To answer a plain question with a plain reply,
 Feels new to me and good.

 To go to the beach and it’s nearly deserted,
 What for all the smoke, 
It’s happened again and it keeps happening,
 I laugh the air thick with moths,
 The summer was a weird one, 
I swing open the door “welcome fall”.

 And with another toss of a pebble,
 Combing the beach for shells,
 And looking at the water at sunset,
 Next to things that don’t matter and things to forget,
 I let them whirl, a little cyclone,
 Living in a world of love.