No, how could they
As the weather turns
It’s more than just
The Earth, It’s another
Place, A new Earth
More than just a day
But part of their life
That’s ended, gone
So many moments
When you’re young
You think your bag
Is endless, unexplored
But as sapling leaves
Grow, they wither too
And the days of youth,
Cycle from long epochs
Into shorter sonnets
Sweet, as wine tastes
And warm is summer
The middle part, the best
We futilely cling, grasp
At days long in the Sun
But fail to stop and think
This is already over too
As soon as its spoke
It has become complete
Don’t dance fast child
At least stay and speak
For remembering,
It slows down the reap
Harvest comes tomorrow
If in fact, it comes at all
I smashed the clock
Tore away its hands
I screamed and wailed
Said not before I’m spent
The miles upon my feet
Just whispers of places
I’ve been before this day
Perhaps just dreams
Of things I thought I
Knew, or the beginning
I slept swiftly through
Until today, I swore
I did not understand
And how can practice
Count as if it were true
A young man battling,
In a middle man’s shoes
Don’t hold your breath
Because dreaded time
It has no need for you
