with a flick we arrive,
but you’re acting like you don’t care.
your back greets us with a smile
as your eyes watch the setting sun.
i think we’re making too much noise
finishing our last rhymes.
oh well.
nothing we can do now.
we make our approach.
the porch is ashen and scarred,
like our faces in memories we’d rather forget.
and you know i’d like to make new ones with you,
walking through streets of gold and myrrh.
but you’re just staring blankly,
and i’m unlearning what i thought was certain.
that’s what happens when you’re self taught
from textbooks old and faded.
i’d buy new ones,
but you are the store
and the sign in your eyes says closed.
so i guess i’ll shut mine too,
and turn those switches in my mind.
they tell me to press on
with this endeavor
and it’s making me wonder
is the just the beginning,
or the end of an era?
someday soon i’ll have the answer.
but until you take the time
to turn a passing glance,
i’ll roll my dice
and take a chance.