Sunday, April 10, 2005

The Time Goes By

One a.m. and
Quiet sinking
Makes itself aware.
Old illusions
Prove to be
No more real than

Time has passed,
Skin is shed,
Bitter taste I knew is dead
So remains

Prime time
Bland reality
No more pipe dream
No more rope swing;

Had a dream that woke me,
Had a peace that wrote me,
Friend who had some pictures
In a puzzle --
Missing link.

Long ago the bonded

Thanks for coming
Thanks for nothing
Wish the best had never bothered

In the end or in the present,
All comes down to this:

Nevermind the madness,
Pick up all the pieces,
Clean and neat and all smoothed out,
Longing for some creases...

...the time goes by...

©Copyright 2004 Jason J. Loya