They think they can just slip away

given there´s always another coming.

Film with the volume turned down

like tinnitus, a background humming

the office of lost, never found.
They believe they are safely dead

that each sunrise prints a full stop.

A new crowd is knocking to enter

mind´s overwhelmed workshop;

tangents once again defeat centre.
They lie deep within Jung´s dark

but there is a way to trick time past.

Don´t release, say, 5.10 yesterday,

one certain moment, hold it fast,

that feeling no clock can gainsay.
With winter sun littering the floor,

we curled on the couch, as we do.

I was stroking one of your small feet.

5.10 again, alone, more than déjà vu,

time returns, my heart´s still replete.
All our yesterdays have lighted fools …

and a lesson of love is to let it go,

accept dusty death, all that´s gone.

But we fools against the tide row,

hearts holding, holding, holding on.