blanketed by the sky blue

above the Earth immense

billowing trees verdant

dropping splashes of color bright

each one perhaps for my delight

seventy-seven irregular degrees

November ignored 

tomorrow reminds me that this is the last

time is short 

though minutes long

when you find yourself 

where you belong

bare feet sliding across bedrock mossy

water cold washing away the day

this moment stolen can’t exist tomorrow

you cannot borrow against what is not yours

for all the things displaced for tomorrow

surely regret will be your sorrow 

time is short though minutes long

what is surely yours is a song

you choose your verse

until its end

X

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