Maybe this time
You might stand a bit taller
Framed
In October’s teasing words,
Where summer wanes
In its wandering light,
Barely holding on
While the romanciers take flight.
.
There was the time we fell asleep
Playing along the tracks,
In between a train,
On the day,
come and go:
our rhythm,
Calling clouds,
Whistled story
Of great valleys
And toys
Still scattered
On the dirt bank.
.
Before we hid under the bridge
On a dare we answered,
Rolling in our slumberous child ideas:
Notions of far off places, tall buildings maybe,
Or wild woods,
We would soar.
.
While this air is changing,
I wonder if you look back,
To the dawn of memory,
And find in this day,
The stillness of space,
That open quiet
Calling once again.
.
I sometimes stop and wonder,
if the air we breathe today
Was our gasp at the trains
Passing overhead
Back then.
Shaken Rain 