|
· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·
|
// ____
standing on the rooftop
focusing a hazy moon
a hidden clock sounds ticky-tac
and silver strings start swinging up in tune
while counting stars I'm well aware
their light has traveled to me for eons
those suns are gone the cold has come
but their mellow beams keep coming on
sitting on the warming curb
lowers the perspective of my view
I'm the child that's eating dust
wondering where they're all heading to
|