Racing cars and blinding lights
On the corner of the street
After you came home last night
The kitchen clock stopped
Working at 9:30 pm
You were covered in tomorrow
Morning’s melodies and
August’s warmth but the
Carelessness in your eyes
Glowed more like February
When we had raspberries
For breakfast two weeks
Straight and you bought
New khaki pants because
Dad wanted you to
We had boundaries linked
With the ink of a pen
And wings that belonged
To red birds but we were
Still free and now all that’s
Left is the taste of sour
Apples and honey and old
Photographs tinted with
Mustard colours on the
Edges stacked in the
Bookcases covered with
Sparkling dust and crackling
Leaves I wish you left the
Constellations threaded
In your palmed still stitched