Written in January 2015.
When all you think about is traffic lights
And little feet down the stairs at nights,
Would you take a quiet moment and
Watch the wild geese, so pretty, white,
Flying high, and higher with the moon on their wing?
Trivial moments. Mundane, everything.
From the ruins of our paper plane battles that
Lay long lost, of beautiful unseen nothings they’ll sing.
Unmoved, you shall walk away, I know
And brush off all I ever say, and go
Beyond dimensions I can fathom, and time
Taking along not friend, nor foe.
Mayhap someday you’ll turn to see
New necklaces on the hanging tree.
And recall lost words of desperate hope.
Perhaps, then, dear friend, you’ll remember me.
T. E. Pyrus