Flashing grasp of an idea Before our youths were ever cashed in. Held onto our chips, played close to the vest in snow. You were never enough sleeping, And I guess I was just dreaming of passing ships in the night and your signal lights aglow.
...in the foam...
Adventure was calling a heart slow to age, the same as it had back in our young Old Days. So, some things don't change.
I remember, in the Winter, Trudging quick to campus coffee shop. Your wet hair frozen, and my breath in that moment...
Springtime flash of our confessions Just as our youths were getting cashed in. Released all our chips we'd held close to our chests. Let go. We were lovers for a season 'til a sudden Summer leaving a passing of boats in heat put our oars down and we rowed.
That feeling was calling my heart--"Time to age!" Still falling, like it had in our young Old Days. I guess some things don't change.
Along the way, You must have fossilized inside me. Lightning on waves-- Metastasized my bad dreams. And, over time, see that I was a distraction No traction, No chance, and no time for empty grief... ...it's only brief, love, still I did sink.