so much beauty is
never photographed be
cause we imagine
beauty
lasts.
so many loving words
are never spoken be
cause we believe
there is always
time.
why can’t we walk
the grassy fields
with the golden
dog
forever?
or leap through the
clear air like a
jaguar to catch a
frisbee?
must our hearts be
locked in solitary
chests as
though we were
prisoners––
so alone?
this is not a bruegel
painting where we can
snooze next to the
haystack or dance with
the jolly village folk in frozen
time.
does it all come
down to remembering? murmured
wishes between friends,
shy expectations &
departures?
can this love be
tween us last even
after our guts dissipate
into sleeping earth
with spring
rain?
we never really leave
our black-haired
days & fresh-blue
eyes
behind.
we read & learn
& laugh at this
vanishing world
that won’t sit
still.
yet, we are one with the
stillness & the
light. our hearts
grow ripe with
sweetness over
time.
we know this moment
cannot end, be
banished to
forgetfulness.
we want to make things
right, to keep old
promises, to realize
wished for
possibilities.
is there still time? there
is more time
than
forever
else.
we do not grasp, we
touch; we do not
possess, we
kiss; we do not own
we
feel.
life flows
through beating
hearts & luscious
days of twilight-dawning
love.
open or closed, the
eyes
see. living or
dead, the soul
breathes.