lost
in this longing and
hanging
by a thread of you

suspended

in nothing
as summers float by
like clouds
whispering soft preoccupations in my ear
(look at the fireflies)

our time is passing into oblivion
as the clock winds through another day

three inches of corderoy on a couch cushion
shift into miles of subtle suggestion
far from an intimate past
that seems but a dream behind yesterday
(while the reality of it all
is the static that was a year ago)

and with every return of the fireflies in summer
the glow is a lifetime more vibrant
and a breath more enticing
than it was the last time i caught you