12 days

it set low in the sky
on one wall I saw it receding to tomorrow
with two hands I carried on.
a brush of breeze, a cooling gust
my glass always emptied
and with the diaspora of summer
my thoughts drifted(perpetually)
how it was what it was that I saw
how it was when I saw
and how many more times I wish to see
how many more times I wish
only twelve more days I hope to hope for this

13 days

the gait of a wanderer
pours me over sidewalk cracks
and happy hour locales, with the locals
inside. i find no respite.
morning light chases the grey tunic of
night from the sky
i wrap the plaid around me
as the countdown to my hands through
your hair
keeps the future focused
keeps my heart on fire