This fire you set will only burn for so long
blue-gray circles of smoke dance, then disappear
for we are only young for a time, and then
carried away on a slow, translucent breeze…
Ghosts fly in through a broken window
questioning the day you died.
and your yesterdays all turn to stone
prisoners to every sunrise;
Fool, did you really believe you would live forever?
Gather up your bones and pick them clean
and as you lay you down to sleep
(making secret wishes for more time)
angels take your breath away…
indian givers.