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.
1 May 2017