Nothing left but a bag of same old rhymes. Beating time on the front of old trousers. Hollering as if I’d seen the moon for the very first. Night’s so dark I cannot remember. All of the nice things that we were in such hurry to leave behind.

As the world refused to stop watching. I found the courage to sing from the hidden places. So many faces luring my eyes to days that should never have been forgotten. Some filled with dream some normal as rainy day blues.

And time called my name to the riches wrapped so deeply. Swimming in the cool deep comfort or tears and triumph. The smart things that so few uttered. And the pearls muttered in the green silent mornings of falls approach.

The tip of my tongue clicking out beats that matched the waves approaching. Reminiscent of the mysteries I had youthfully gambled. A mind of wonder and a heart full of sunshine and possibility. Purposely never pondering what lay beyond the sky.

Simple days and weeks in splendor. Sleeping mind free of burdens shared. Conflicts so swiftly forgotten or never visited. As the well of the world tasted sweetly at each short sip. Thinking slowly for ideas never ventured. No worries renewed.

A top the chest my keys and random pictures. A Pile of knickknacks infrequently sorted. Never enough to lead them to the relevant clues. For the depth of the forest must never be measured. As with love it must age and be sampled for a lifetime.

Lost in the pulsing sway in the voice of a child long departed. Competing with the birds to paint a picture I saw in God’s Eye. The golden victories of a man searching each experience for whispers of courage and valiant hope. Marking Time upon the counter top.