for long years
sitting . waiting
watching movements
of those who pass
unmindful of where they are

monotone steps through hours
like stones down a dry well
resounding in hollow dreams
move along in forward backpeddling
searching minutes
with second hand visions
saving time in borrowed sight

with cold hands they reach
luke warm hearts forgetting August
and all the summer sunrises
dryrot into a pile of dead stars
immagination is a terrible thing
to waste . to squander
but it has no place in a nestegg

lost children weeping
inside practical planned husks
clawing for one last spin
one more ring around
to fall down laughing
unbound . carefree
painting fairytales in clouds

for long years
tears fall for the forgotten
those hearts trapped
inside painted premade society shells
yet rivers flow for the those
that stop and recall that pixie dust
is only a wish and a fairy kiss away

time has no boundry
and neither do we

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others