Dying
days
They
are getting farther away the days
where
there was light
and
hope
a
bright future to hang it on a place
and
things to love
where
the ghosts of all-grown children aren't
and
running
is
still fun and viable
where
the first thing on your mind isn't
bare
survival
where
the counters were too tall
and
the puddles deep
where
even small dogs gave you pause
and
every kitten
you
thought you could keep
where
the summers stretched like kite strings
into
less than troubled skies
where
your dreams
did
not fall down or tumble backwards
dead
as winter flies
where
the nights belonged to fantasies
excitement
of
the pure and simple kind
and
sleeping
was
the last thing on your mind
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