We grew young into our years
hand-me-down shirts and the family car
’til our clothes fit better and we tracked MPG’s.
Life was a match, a bonfire, sparklers in the street.
To burn bright and go to sleep seemed fine, reincarnated
as 8am ear-worms on the coattails of a dream.
Echoes are not undying though - and my days
are never enough, to get done and undone
chasing horizons, writing with light.
I have not solved the problem of energy
the space between one and another thought
time between captured smiles worth telling in stories
My time, your time, aligned somehow.
We always give chase to those coming things.
Now and again though, we do look back
turn to pillars of salt against
the red and orange of our histories.
I have not solved the problem of energy.