Seen
them change,

as I have done,

this pace
I cannot remedy

let the
the slow, insipid
disconnect, bring
something of
it's incidental
tenderness
to hand..

(run far enough
to understand that
days ahead are fewer
than those days played
out behind)


then
maybe I'll
design a way,
appropriate
a fantasy..


sat, watching
all arise and fade..

transforming
into poetry...