Where did this start and when will it end?
I step closer. Reaching. Trip on my own shoelaces.
Head curls under, trying to find a warm home in the sidewalk crack.
It's a love thing. Let it shower and let it whither softly.
As the seasons change I can feel the clear weightless shift.
Never stopping, never never never returning the same.
Out of bounds? Back into the core of being.
No, this is not lonely. There is festivity. There are balloons.
This is birthday.