Ten fires burn
In the distance.

A man looks behind himself
Before he turns.

Nights fortitude
Mixes
With love.

We Forget.

Forefathers
Of way-senders,
Sifting through old boxes
Of tin made smiles and
Mis-matched fortunes.

A letter rests on the nightstand.
It rests near
The fountain.
We were always so far away.
Like a distant lake.
Like a mountain.

When the lights
Are turned out and the dripping
Ceases
From its
Spout,

Think of me when you are with he.
There is no other place
I'd rather be
But in-between thoughts
Of joy and
Misery.

A candle for
The
Hour.

A light for
The
Minute.

Only in the flame
Do we know
We are truly in
And living in
Time.

I've attached
Every thought I've
Had
To
Electronic
Dream Weavers.

I've got no more
Strength
To give, yet I hear
A whisper.

Another attention getter.

Another bidder.

Another hitter.

Wake for her.
Wake for you.

Wake for her
And you
Together.

Intertwined
In wine
Covered in needles of
Aged' thyme.

The grass on the field
Is
Green. No, don't
Deny it.

I'm weary of stasis.

It's a bird
Upon my shelf.

I'm out of mind.
I'm out of places.

One more time
I look at he and he
Looks at me.

We
Whistle
Through the threshold of this

Modern Day, all the while
Knowing after,

There won't

Be much left

To

Say.