dreamed of devastation,           flew miles        low
over concrete .   skeletons,      bones of the thing.
all is dust, as dust we have become.                 slow.
grey.

is an old fashioned thing

which can mean many things

mostly in black and white

films

recently it came up again

and was challenged

regarding the personal space and bony joints

funny bone

&

foolishness

so in the mist of memory my 15 minutes passed  without concentration and went indoors after

i have the same,
usually, i felt like
a change today.

tidy beach
soft sand and honest stones
to be fortunate here

so the falling days,
end today, winter waits,
and the songs, and words,
tunes are all to warm us,
and hold us safe

let us look at things, differently.

often, we do things, no one ever sees.
that is you and me. two of us
dancing on the sand.

it came
and went,
quickly.