The sky was higher that day

and the leaves were quitting their jobs.

From here, the days get shorter

there’s no way to use it all up.

Perhaps there’s still time to be new

to go out into each day with a smile for a stranger

and a tender thought for your mother.

Spring, that fecund slut

has left and now we are reminded of the mortality of it all.

Come on, said the searing blue

perhaps there’s still time to make something of yourself,

file your taxes, drink enough water

rid your house of the clutter;

to make small decisions about what matters and stays

before you are forced to make the big ones.

But the air! It smelled of nostalgia and the radio

was playing your song.

I wasn’t in the mood for wisdom

            Remind me tomorrow, I said

            Remind me tomorrow

            Remind me tomorrow

            Remind me tomorrow