By | 3 February 2024

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

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