I saw your breath race up
to join the smokestacks' sigh.
You'd cried the night before and I
had cursed the coming Summer,
'cuz I've always liked the cold.
You told me, someday, all of this
would be flattened out and bulldozed.
Paved and paved and painted 'til
the grey goes on for miles,
and they'll never know we stood here,
never know we'd sometimes smile--
true or falsely--
in the bitter Winter air.
I don't know about that.
I don't know if you're wrong or right.
All I've got for you are guesses
that all we ever had was time.
So, with the stopwatch spitting seconds
as the calendar frames lives,
realize it looks the same;
it hasn't changed--we never tried.
Sew these moments up.
A patch for one more year.
Won't "cheers" you--all that happened here
was a decade came unraveled,
now I stand by smokestacks, cold.
Told you once I liked the Winter.
It got searing hot and you walked
off and faded to a point.
But the pavement goes on for miles,
and they'd never guess we stood here,
never know the way we'd smile--
true or falsely--
in the bracing midnight air.
Now I don't know about you.
Can't tell if you were wrong or right.
But I will keep on guessing
all we had was a convenient lie.
Fill the hourglass with seconds
as the calendar frames lives.
No. Don't turn it on its head;
the moment's dead: we didn't try.
Quick, simple (and, I hope, catchy) musing on a brief involvement about a year before this posting.
