but, i am lost.
and from such a notion
one must deduce,
there can be no
way to reach me.
i face the window
when there my eyes
are called,
i fall into chairs
on the suggestion
of my knees
and feet,
and barreling on
i stumble away
with the plainest motion
of my dismissive hand.
sunrise after sunset.
sunday over saturday
after the settling
of the last season.
i am stretched across
the past,
lingering around
a meandering day
and losing myself
far into
the coming weeks.
there is no way
to touch me
for i am so
far away.
there could be
no sense
to catch me,
not in such times
as these,
when a dream
is too translucent
to take shape
within this life,
but far too vivid
and sweetly singing
for me to possibly
forget it.
