kid hopscotch games is what made us fast friends, first by ones and then by twos
we double dutch jump roped, played king of the hill upon backyard hourglass dunes
those dust devil winds pulled down sands of time, wedged miles of walk between us
other sidewalk chalk tarts became the whos who taught arts of manic pillow talk genius
then rainfalls of time washed into dark gray our sidewalk chalk talk markings
coming storms made us run into the ark by twos away from the thunder's barking
tempests roared up from below our low waist equators, as we shared makeshift bedcovers
we danced hopscotch along, sang doo wah diddy bop songs, dreamed up names for every lover
old games and songs we pull into playback again as a grip on the running hourglass
try to turn the glass over, turn it sideway, every way but you cannot turn it past
for the fine grained moments flow out only one way, soon the tawny brassened base
holds a sphere cleared of all, our finale downfall, the trace of a life's spent grace
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
"old games and songs we pull into playback again as a grip on the running hourglass"
I once asked an author how he could have moved away from his home and given up the gardens he created and wrote about. He said that everything exists in only a moment of time, and that we have to accept that things change and that our busy hands have left behind memories for someone else. I like to remember this when I go into playback mode.
"our finale downfall, the trace of a life's spent grace"
This is a beautiful thought, that we live in grace. But do we really have a finite life?
Post a Comment